Unforgiving Antidote
by Gohanna
Summary: Dean may have lots of practice at drinking and how to deal with hangovers, but Sam had lots of practice with making epic mistakes and having to clean them up. After releasing the Darkness and a night of unremembered events, Sam must come to grips with a deal made and reveal a hidden secret to his brother. Sequel to Unforgiven Remedy
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: ** I don't own the supernatural characters.

**Warnings: **Harsh language, swearing, violence, some physical violence but nothing too graphic, thoughts of self-incrimination.

**Author's Note:** This is set after the Darkness is released and is sequel to my other story _**Unforgiven Remedy**_. I would recommend you read that one first, but you should be able to follow this one regardless.

I didn't like how left the boys in _**Unforgiven Remedy**_, and that's how this story was born. Anyway, enjoy and I hope you like it.

**UNFORGIVING ANTIDOTE**

**CHAPTER ONE**

Sam Winchester was hungover.

Extremely hungover.

He knew it, even before he became consciously aware of his surroundings, before he had even opened his eyes that he was hungover.

His head throbbed – _pounded_ – in time with his own heartbeat, feeling the room spinning around him even though his eyes remained closed as he valiantly fought the bile that rose up in his throat.

Oh no, was he going to be sick?

Eyes still closed – knowing that it would be so much worse when he opened his eyes – Sam placed a hand over his mouth determined to hold in the sickness and keep it at bay because he was not going to be sick all over himself, damn it. He could control this. He _would_ control this because he wasn't a teenager anymore; he was a grown man and he _refused_ to humiliate himself by not being able to control where he threw up.

Sam stayed perfectly still as he fought his body's instincts to release the bile, knowing from experience that any kind of movement, no matter how slight, and the battle would be over. Sam would lose to his own body's instincts, no matter how much he fought it or didn't want to be sick.

Oh man, how much had Sam had to drink last night?

Too much, Sam decided with a groan, not even sure of his current whereabouts at the moment.

Was he at the Men of Letter's Bunker in the comfort of his bed? Or maybe he was in some random motel room after completing a hunt? Or … Sam really hoped he wasn't in the Impala right now because the last thing he needed to do was to barf in Dean's baby.

As if things between them weren't already tense enough without Sam adding fuel to the fire by contaminating Dean's precious baby with his bodily fluids. Sam swallowed convulsively, determined not to puke in his brother's car. He was supposed to be making things better between them, not worse.

Finally, after what seemed like a life-time but must have been only a few minutes, Sam breathed a sigh of relief, feeling confident that he was no longer in danger of projecting his vomit everywhere, lying completely still to avoid the return of his nausea as he removed his hand from his mouth and placed it upon his forehead.

Gently, Sam rubbed soothing fingers across his forehead, trying to relieve the ache within his head. But Sam knew the only way he would truly be able to relieve the _pounding_ within his skull was to take some painkillers; and soon, if Sam didn't want to deal with a full-blown migraine on top of this hangover, which _would_ cause him to become sick regardless of how hard he tried to fight it off.

Sam didn't want to move yet. He couldn't even fathom the thought of opening his eyes, let alone moving. He was content, for the time being, to just lie here, feeling immense relief at the fact that he hadn't vomited everywhere.

Sam sighed softly, self-pity beginning to invade him now. Why the hell had he drunk so much anyway?

Sam gave a mental shake of his head to rid himself of these thoughts – not wanting to move in case his body decided to revolt upon him again – a low growl of annoyance coming from his suddenly too dry throat as he tried to concentrate on more important things – other than his aching head and seedy stomach – like where the hell he was right now.

Sam lay there, breathing deeply as he opened up his other senses, trying to gauge his exact surroundings. His hunter instincts weren't screaming at him, so that meant he was somewhere safe. And he was lying down … so, did that mean that Sam wasn't in the Impala?

Sam cautiously felt around his immediate area with his right hand, not willing to open his eyes just yet and risk fighting with his own bodily functions again, feeling a hard, solid surface beneath him and not the familiar touch of leather that he associated with the Impala; nor could he hear her distinctive purr, which led Sam to conclude that he wasn't in the Impala right now.

That thought made Sam breathe a little easier, because now he had no chance of defiling Dean's baby if – when – Sam lost the battle with his own body to extinguish all of the liquid contents within his stomach.

Okay, that narrowed things down quite a bit. If he wasn't in the Impala, but was lying down upon a hard, solid surface … was he in a motel room? Had the two of them finished a successful hunt? Is that why Sam had gotten so drunk?

Sam frowned, confused for a moment as he tried to recall events from earlier in the night, trying to remember if they had been a hunt. But he came up empty. He couldn't remember doing research, talking to any witnesses or anything case related and he definitely couldn't recall drinking so much that he had caused himself a damn black out.

The last thing Sam could remember with absolute clarity and certainty was being in some hick bar, having an epic showdown with Death and his older brother Dean, who was possessed by the Mark of Cain and was convinced that the only way to get through this was for Dean to kill Sam and for Death to take Dean to somewhere far away so that Dean could no longer hurt anyone else.

And even though it had been Dean's plan, Sam eventually resigning himself to the fate of his death, Dean had taken out Death instead of Sam before the Mark had been removed from his brother's arm, which had both freed Dean from the Mark's effects and released the Darkness from its cage.

Sam had let another evil being loose upon the world while the two brothers had high-tailed it out of there as fast as they possibly could; scrambling to get back to the Men of Letters Bunker so they could formulate a plan – figure out who and what the Darkness was – before they destroyed it or sent it back to where it belonged, and then they could live happily ever after.

Yeah, right! As if _they_ could live happily ever after, Sam couldn't help but scoff. Sam had tried that. He had tried living a normal life before he was dragged right back into this life again. Normal and happily ever after was one thing the Winchester siblings could never have.

Sam could also recall the terror as a wave of darkness began to overwhelm them and the Impala, the look of accusation upon his beloved older brother's face, hitting Sam hard, because yes; this was Sam's fault. Here they were, faced with another end of the world disaster because Sam couldn't leave well enough alone and had released another evil upon mankind because of his ignorance and his refusal to listen to his big brother's warnings.

But Sam couldn't feel guilty about that. If he had listened, he would be dead and his brother would be lost to him forever. What he _did_ feel guilt over was the fact that he had doomed mankind to his selfishness and the fact that he had disappointed and failed his older brother yet again.

Sam pushed those emotions down for now in an effort to figure out where the hell he was right now. He wasn't in the Impala and they hadn't been working a case before Sam become so blindingly drunk. They had obviously escaped the wave of darkness somehow, so the only logical place he could possibly be right now was the Men of Letters Bunker.

That thought made Sam relax further. Because, at least now he wouldn't be making a fool of himself in public.

Oh yeah, and making an idiot of himself in front of Dean isn't embarrassing at all! Sam couldn't help the sarcastic comment that came to mind.

Dean … Was Dean even here right now? Or had he gone out, too ashamed and disappointed in his younger brother that he couldn't stand the sight of him, not wanting to see Sam make an even bigger fool of himself, not wanting to help Sam through one of the worst and epic hangovers Sam had experienced to date?

Oh God, what embarrassing things had he said to his brother before Dean had had enough and decided to leave Sam to suffer all by himself? Sam couldn't help but cringe inwardly at that thought.

_This_ was exactly _why_ Sam didn't drink.

He was an emotional drinker. And while at times he would be goofy and clingy, there were other times when his darker emotions would surface, where everything he had done in his life would hit him all at once and he would become consumed with guilt and shame, becoming paralysed by the epic mistakes he had made and how many times he had failed and betrayed his big brother.

Sam suspected that this had been one of his darker moments where he had been overwhelmed by his guilt and regrets. Because, if he could remember correctly, not long after the brothers had returned to the Men of Letters Bunker, Dean had practically run to his room and shut the door, wanting nothing to do with Sam, even though Sam had suggested that the two of them go out to celebrate and let off some steam.

Oh, this was not good. Dean turning down drinks and a good time all so he could avoid spending time with Sam … Yeah, this was really bad. Worse than Sam had thought possible. Sam hadn't seen this kind of avoidance from Dean for years … not since the whole apocalypse-demon blood-Ruby thing. Although, the whole leaving Dean in Purgatory for a whole was a very close second.

Now everything was beginning to make sense. Sam would have taken Dean's rejection hard; he would have assumed – and, rightly so – that Dean was once again disappointed and ashamed of him because his very actions had released the Darkness from its cage and now it was free to cause all kinds of carnage and mayhem upon the Earth.

Sam let out another groan, this one born more from embarrassment and frustration than actual pain because _of course_ Dean wouldn't want to stick around and watch his younger brother sink into oblivion, revisiting every past mistake or choice Sam had ever made.

Why? Why had Sam allowed himself to drink that much?

Now, not only did Sam have to contend with Dean's obviously blatant disappointment of him for refusing to listen … again … lifting the Mark of Cain from his brother's arm and in doing so, releasing something far more dangerous than Lucifer from its cage; but _now_, Sam also had to contend with the knowledge of any number of embarrassing things he might have done or said to his brother.

Oh God, just kill me now.

**SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW**

Dean blinked, suddenly feeling disorientated as he quickly placed a hand upon the wall in order to steady himself and to have something _solid_ to hold onto … almost as if he were trying to ground himself.

Even though Dean quickly regained his balance before he found himself flat upon his face, he couldn't stop the intense wave of vertigo that swept over him. And before Dean could even comprehend what was happening, he was on his hands and knees expelling the entire contents of his stomach.

And this was precisely why Dean hated travelling via angel-zapping. It always made him feel like crap afterwards. It was almost as if Dean suffered from travel sickness except it was angel sickness.

Was that even a thing?

Dean figured he should _make_ it a thing because every time he got zapped by an angel Dean would end up feeling like crap afterwards; sometimes even for several days afterward, and the fact that he couldn't poop … Well, Dean supposed that was irrelevant, but still, the fact remained that Dean officially hated travelling by angel-zapping.

Dean wiped his mouth with the back of his hand once he had finished puking his guts out, breathing deeply for several moments while he tried to regain his equilibrium, trying to figure out where the hell he was and why the hell he had needed angel-zapping in the first place.

Dean raised his eyes, taking in the hallway around him, instantly recognizing it as the hallway between his room and the kitchen in the Men of Letters Bunker and felt himself relax.

He was home. He was safe.

Gingerly, Dean got to his feet, trying to remember just what exactly had happened. Instinct had Dean heading toward his room. His bed didn't look as if it had been slept in at all, and the empty two bottles of beers upon his night stand helped to jog Dean's sluggish memory.

He had secluded himself in his room after the two brothers had escaped the wave of darkness after he had been told by the Darkness itself, that Dean and the Darkness had a connection because Dean had once bore the Mark of Cain and the Darkness was once the original owner of the Mark.

That, in itself, was enough to shake the older hunter to his core because he didn't want to have any kind of connection to this Darkness!

Plus, the fact that he had almost killed his baby brother … that he thought, for even a second, that was a viable solution to their problems, had caused Dean such grief and anguish that he had locked himself in his room, struggling to get down the two beers as he became overwhelmed by his emotions.

Dean had been too ashamed to spend the evening in the company of his brother, acting like everything was fine when it wasn't fine at all because Dean had almost broken every vow he had ever made to that kid when he had tried to kill him.

Granted, Dean had been under the influence of the Mark when he had come up with that half-baked plan, but that did nothing to lessen Dean's guilt or his shame.

Dean rubbed a hand over his tired eyes, hating the after-effects of angel-zapping because it took a few minutes for his memories to return. And then, when they did return, they were often all jumbled together, all out of context and all out of order.

Disorientated. That's how Dean felt at the moment as he ran a hand over his duvet, hoping to ground him in the here and now.

Back where it had all started, Dean thought both bitterly and fondly. At least Gabriel had been an angel of his word and had transported them back to their own world, their own reality.

Wait a minute … Gabriel was still alive? And _where_ exactly had the brothers been?

Sam. Sam had been with him, Dean was sure of it. But where the hell was his brother now?

Swallowing back his confusion, Dean left his room and headed toward the kitchen, his stride picking up pace even as he fought against the panic that wanted to consume him and the dizziness that was often experienced by the older hunter after travelling via angel-zapping.

Dean rounded the corner and headed into the kitchen before he stopped dead in his tracks, the breath knocked out of him in both surprise and alarm as he took in the state of the kitchen.

Broken glass was shattered beside the kitchen table, the smell of alcohol reaching Dean's nose as he noticed the label of a whiskey bottle in amongst the scattered glass.

Huh. It looked like someone had either had one hell of a good time a few hours ago or a fight of some kind had broken out. Had Dean and Sam fought? Dean couldn't recall trading any punches with his younger brother, but he did briefly recall having some kind of discussion with a _very_ drunk little brother.

Dean chuckled in surprise at that revelation. Sammy getting drunk. That was unusual but it wasn't enough to explain the cold feeling of dread that was now gnawing at Dean's stomach.

Something … bad had happened here. He could _feel_ it. And he knew that it involved Sam somehow, but … Was Sam even here right now?

Dean cocked his head to the right, straining to hear any noise or anything that sounded out of place, but the only sound that greeted Dean was silence.

Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly, refusing to give into the panic just yet. If his brother was as drunk as Dean remembered him being, then Sam was most likely curled up in his bed nursing one hell of a hangover.

Dean forced himself to relax, to calm down and just think things through logically. It wouldn't do him any good to go off in a half-cocked frenzy of panic just because he had a bad feeling.

Still, Dean was a man who trusted his feelings because nine times out of ten it meant he was either in danger or trouble was headed his way. And as a hunter, he had learned never to dismiss his instincts. Dean's eyes widened slightly when he spotted a trail of red heading from the kitchen.

Wait, was that _blood_?

Disjointed memories began to surface within Dean's mind, the side-effects of angel travelling in full swing as his memories came at him hard and fast, all out of order, all mixed up in his mind, the images causing Dean's panic to soar higher than before as he realized that something _very_ bad had happened here. And his little brother was right at the centre of it all.

**DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW**

Sam knew that if he had his eyes open and he could look in a mirror right now that he would be able to see himself blushing deeply in embarrassment because Sam Winchester did not get drunk and make a fool of himself.

That was more Dean's style. And Sam was fairly certain that Dean had never felt _this_ bad after one of his benders. Of course, Dean had more practice at it than Sam had.

Sam very rarely drunk more than three beers in one sitting. And if it was whiskey, then Sam only had one glass – two at the most to seem social – because _someone_ had to keep a level head when they were out hustling pool or having a celebratory drink after completing another successful hunt.

The majority of the time the two of them went out would find Sam scrapping his older brother up off the floor, stitching Dean back together because he had either hit on another man's girl or the marks of the night realized they had been played and wanted their money back.

Either way, most nights in a bar with Dean ended in a bar fight. And Sam _needed_ to stay sober in order to help his brother in the bar fight and to patch him up later on.

Plus, Sam was a light drunk. Any more than six beers would put Sam on his ass. And if he had six shots of whiskey … well, there was no telling what crazy stunt Sam would get up to. Getting into a car with a bunch full of hippies who were high as a kite, immediately came to mind. Sam had travelled with them for two days straight before he came to his senses and called his brother for help.

Boy, Sam had never heard the end of it from Dean after that particular stunt and Dean had continually reminded Sam of that time _years_ after it had occurred. Dean had been so furious with him that he had banned Sam from drinking anything heavier than a soft drink for months after Dean had rescued him from the hippies.

So, if Sam had been wallowing in self-pity, distraught at having failed and disappointed his big brother yet again, trying to numb his feelings by drowning them out through the use of alcohol – a vague image of him drinking a glass of whiskey from a nearly empty whiskey bottle came into his mind – then, there was no telling _what_ crazy things Sam would have said or done while under the influence of alcohol.

Maybe like trying to do a spell so that he could fix all of the damage and get rid of all of the pain he had caused his older brother over the years … for instance.

Hang on a minute, is that what had happened? Had Sam really wanted to perform some kind of spell in which Sam could erase everything that had happened in their past by changing one thing in his life? Like he never went to Stanford, for example.

No. Surely not. That was too crazy even for him. How could he think that doing a spell would solve _anything_, let alone be able to call do-over on his past mistakes?

He couldn't wipe away all of his mistakes just like that. He didn't deserve to be let off that easily. He should have to _feel_ and suffer through all of the guilt and pain his actions had caused.

That was his penance. That was what he _deserved_ when he continually betrayed and hurt the one person whom Sam would gladly give his own life for in a heartbeat. That was what he deserved when he continually brought about mankind's imminent destruction because he refused to listen to reason, believing that his way was the only way … the right way.

Still, Sam _had_ jumped into a van full of hippies that he didn't even know. Was it really so hard to imagine that he would try to do a spell and call a do-over, trying to make a better life for his beloved older brother?

No. It wasn't hard to imagine that at all. In fact, given how Dean had wanted nothing to do with him once they had returned to the Men of Letters Bunker, it suddenly began to make a lot of sense that Sam's inner darkness had multiplied his guilt to such a degree that the only thing Sam could do to make this right for his brother was to become someone else entirely. To call a do-over, to relive his life and not repeat any of his past mistakes.

Sam suddenly decided that he didn't _want_ to know where he was. He was quite content to lie here and remain oblivious for as long as he could, his humiliation and embarrassment keeping him company until he could find some hole to crawl into and hide until all of this blew over … or until his brother returned from wherever he was and his merciless teasing of Sam's antics from his drunken escapade lessened and Dean had finally gotten it out of his system.

Yeah, it could take _months_ before Dean got sick of teasing Sam over this. That is, if Dean was even still talking to him right now. For all Sam knew, his non-remembered antics from his drinking binge could have caused the fragile bond between them to break beyond all repair.

Sam felt a stab of pain in his heart at that thought, moisture gathering within his closed eyes. He would much prefer Dean's teasing over Dean's disappointment and hurt any day.

Sam couldn't help the half-moan, half-sob that escaped him, knowing he had done the one thing he'd sworn to himself never to do again, hurt his big brother.

God, why couldn't he do anything right? Why did all of his attempts to make his mistakes right or help free his brother from the Mark of Cain, always cause pain and hurt to the one person Sam never wanted to disappoint or hurt?

As Sam was lying there, trying to reign in his self-loathing and self-incriminating thoughts, it was almost as if Sam could feel the gentle touch of his brother's hand upon his chest, soothing him, reassuring Sam that everything was going to be okay, whispering words of encouragement and endearments.

But Sam knew better. Dean had already been so pissed off with Sam that he didn't even want to be in the same room as him. Now that Sam had gotten blindingly drunk and had done and said God only knows what, becoming fuelled by his own guilt and remorse, Dean probably hated him with a vengeance.

Sam swallowed hard and pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. He'd have time for self-pity later. Right now, Sam had to open his eyes and risk moving so that he could crawl away to his bed and hide away for the next few days until he felt more normal and he didn't feel as if his head was about to explode at any moment.

Sam knew he couldn't hide away forever. He knew he had to either kill the Darkness or put it back in its cage before it annihilated everything – even if he no longer had Dean backing him – because it was Sam's mess to clean up. And Sam _always_ cleaned up his messes.

Dean may have lots of practice at drinking and how to deal with hangovers, but Sam had _lots_ of practice at making epic mistakes and having to clean them up. Sam knew that, starting tomorrow, he would be starting the process of fixing up this mess, beginning with a big fat apology to his big brother. Whether Dean accepted it or not remained to be seen, but that problem could wait until he had a few more hours of sleep under his belt. For now, Sam was really craving the privacy of his room and his bed.

With a silent plea to his body to behave until he had at least gotten to his room, Sam began to push himself up using his left elbow, when he felt a hand quickly grabbing his left arm and pulling it down by his side, gently, but forcefully restraining his arm.

Sam's eyes shot open on their own accord in alarm, adrenaline pumping though him as he suddenly realized that _both_ of his arms were restrained – what the fuck was this?! – and started to struggle out of instinct alone, in order to free himself.

Maybe Sam had been mistaken. Maybe he wasn't hungover. Maybe he was suffering from a concussion. And if that was the case, then maybe the brothers were on a hunt and … where the hell was his brother?!

"De'n!" Sam tried to call out for his brother but was surprised when nothing more than a squeak came out of his mouth.

Oh shit, had he been drugged? Is that why he couldn't remember anything that had happened? Just what in the hell was going on here?

"" De'n!" Sam tried again, pleased, when this time he could actually make out the name he was calling for but dismayed at the near whisper of that cry.

Panic began to grip at Sam's heart when his feeble attempts to free himself was doing absolutely nothing at all. His arms were still held firmly at his sides, no matter how much he bucked and struggled. And the worst thing was, even though Sam's eyes were now open, he couldn't see a damn thing.

Oh shit, was he blindfolded or … had something else happened to impair his vision?

If they were on a hunt and Sam was trapped by some evil son of bitch and Dean was nowhere to be seen, heard or felt … then, that meant Dean was also in trouble.

Sam feared more for his brother's safety than his own, so he resumed his struggles to free himself, frantic to get to his brother before the unthinkable happened.

Sam had only just gotten his brother back from being possessed by the Mark of Cain. Sam couldn't lose Dean now, not after everything Sam had done and gone through to get him back. It couldn't end like this. Sam _refused_ to let it end like this.

"Dean!" Sam screamed in terror, fear and panic, his scream echoing off the walls, extremely proud that _this_ time Sam's voice could be heard, even if he still couldn't see.

Now, all he could was wait for his brother's reply as he redoubled his efforts to free himself from the near impossible grasp that had him pinned down.

"Dean, where are you?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Special thanks: ** to **Pie Love Luci** for your kind words and review.

**Warnings:** Suicidal thoughts and lots of self-angst in this chapter.

**CHAPTER TWO**

Dean gasped in horror, terror gripping his heart as he saw Sam, a look of sad acceptance upon his face as he held a loaded gun in in his hands, considering ending it all by putting the gun to his head and pulling the trigger, self-sacrificing himself, knowing that this was the only way he could ever truly save his big brother, while Bobby stood there, _encouraging him to do it_.

No!

Dean violently shook his head to rid himself of that disturbing memory because surely Sam knew that killing himself was _never_ an option. That wasn't what Dean wanted. And it sure as hell wasn't something Bobby would ever encourage Sam to do.

Dean gritted his teeth together in both anger and fear as he saw himself stuck, unable to get to where ever Sam was, unable to help Sam – because, damn it, his baby brother was in the worst kind of trouble – unable to kick his damn ass for even _considering_ doing this God awful thing and leaving Dean all alone in the world; the last remaining Winchester alive.

And Dean … he didn't deserve it. He didn't want to live if Sam was no longer with him, beside him, fighting the good fight. What was the point in carrying on if he had nothing left to live for? If Sam died here, whether by his own hand or not, Dean knew that he would follow his brother shortly after. His life was meaningless without his brother.

No! This wasn't happening!

Dean swallowed hard, a memory of Sam convulsing, his body growing colder by the second as scattered memories of a time that never was invaded his consciousness, as he pleaded for Sam to stop it, to come back before it was too late, pleading to anyone who would listen for help, while Dean could do nothing but watch Sammy die. Because, that's exactly what was happening here; Sam was dying, right before Dean's eyes and there wasn't a God damn thing he could do about it.

No!

There was no way in hell Dean was allowing that to happen on his watch!

Dean growled under his breath, not liking the helpless, hopeless feeling that swept over him at the images that flooded through his mind.

He saw Sam, standing over a table, a spell book open, ingredients everywhere, bleeding heavily from his left arm – oh, that explained the blood in the kitchen, leading to … what looked to be the library, in this particular memory – desperately explaining to Dean that he could fix it. He could _fix_ everything. Dean would be proud of him this time round and all Sam had to do to achieve it was to cast this spell, which would change one thing about his life and then Sam would never be led down the dark path, his _destiny_ that yellow-eyes had predicted and primed Sam for ever since he'd turned six months old; and Sam would never betray his brother with a demon …

Oh God Sammy, no. What are you doing? Why would you even _think_ this is what I wanted?

Dean could see the book open now, at the spell his younger brother had been determined to perform, even as it was already too late to prevent it because his stupidly, drunken brother had already performed the spell, and Dean could see that it wasn't a spell book at all … it was a damn _curse book_.

Holy crap Sammy, what have you done? What did you do? How do I save you? How do I get you out of there, get you back to where you belong?

Tears gathered within the corners of Dean's eyes, blinking furiously to clear his vision and not give into his emotions just yet. If this is what had indeed happened … then where the hell was his brother right now?

Dean scanned the kitchen area, searching for his younger brother in amongst the destruction, but there was no sign of him what so ever. Damn it, where the hell was he?

Dean opened his mouth to call out for his brother, when another memory surfaced of a vaguely familiar figure standing there, before the two brothers in some kind of weirdo world. Was that … _Dad_?!

Dad in cahoots with Gabriel? All of this had been some kind of elaborate hoax in order to bring the siblings closer together? But, how the hell did Dad and Gabriel even get there? And how the hell was the ex-trickster-archangel even still alive? Dean could vividly recall that sneaky trickster dying at the hands of his brother, Lucifer.

Dean closed his eyes, overwhelmed by all of these jumbled thoughts, images and confusing emotions that coursed through him, his heart pounding loudly in his own eyes, his thoughts narrowing and pinpointing down to one objective, one mission.

Sammy had been in some kind of trouble. Dean could _feel_ it, his big brother instincts screaming out for him to find Sam; to save Sam before it was too late.

Whatever else had happened, whether Gabriel was alive, whether their Dad had been involved somehow, Dean didn't care. All he really cared about was finding his brother.

Dean's eyes flew open at the sound of a low, pained groan, instantly realizing that during his flash back memories, Dean had purposely walked into the library, almost seeking his younger brother out on a subconscious level, his eyes immediately zeroing in on the sound he had heard.

"Sammy," Dean breathed out in relief, his anxiousness easing when he caught sight of his lanky younger brother sprawled out on the library floor.

Whatever had happened, it didn't matter now because Sam was back, he was alive and he was safe.

"Hang on Sammy, I'm coming," Dean replied in response to another one of Sam's moans as Dean carefully made his way over to his brother.

Dean couldn't help but gasp, his approach halted when he noticed an upturned bowl and what appeared to be ingredients scattered upon the floor, some of the ingredients even making their way upon his baby brother's face and hair.

"Shit Sam, you really _did_ do a spell-curse." Dean said, a note of awe and horror tinging his voice.

Dean shook his head to focus on the here and now. He would have plenty of time later to figure out what had happened once he knew for sure that his little brother was safe and free from imminent danger.

Dean ran a calm, calculating eye over his brother's body, crouching down before him on one knee, immediately noticing the dried pool of blood beneath Sam's head.

Dean quickly ran probing but gentle fingers up and down the back of his brother's head, breathing a sigh of relief when he realized that the head wound wasn't as bad as he thought and it had long since stopped bleeding.

Good. At least Dean didn't have to worry about his little brother's gigantic brain leaking out of his head. The only real concern would be concussion. And it wasn't as if either Winchester sibling had never been concussed before. With the sort of work they did, getting a concussion was almost a work place guarantee. Although both brothers treated head wounds seriously. And if their symptoms worsened, there was no mucking around, they would immediately visit an ER.

"Sorry Sammy," Dean soothed the younger man when he moaned at Dean's gentle probing.

The next thing Dean noticed was his brother's left arm covered in a rough, quick bandage job, seeing signs of a little seepage slipping through the bandage. Swiftly, Dean unwound the bandage from Sam's arm with practiced ease and couldn't help but wince at the large, jagged cut to his brother's arm.

"Wow, that's deep. Looks like you're going to need some stitches for this mess Sammy." Dean let out a little, fond sigh of exasperation, relieved that this was the worst physical injury that Sam had suffered. After the nightmare visions that had invaded his mind, Dean had expected worse. Much worse.

Dean stood to his feet and quickly retrieved a first aid kit from the second drawer of the main desk.

Past experience had taught Dean to have a mini first aid kit in all of the main rooms – the kitchen, the conference room, the library, their bedrooms, hell, he even had one stashed in the dungeon – at the Bunker because that saved a lot of wasted time having to run to the location of the main first aid kit and back again.

Honestly, this Bunker was like a damn maze; and when you were running against the clock, trying to get to the first aid kit in order to patch up your kid brother … that was a lot of wasted time and energy. So, Dean had decided to place a mini first aid kit in each of the main rooms to avoid all of the wasted time.

Dean had never been more grateful he had done that, than he was right now; because within thirty seconds, Dean was back by his little brother's side already pulling out the medical equipment he would need in order to stitch up Sam's arm.

"Okay little brother, deep breath, this is gonna sting like a bitch." Dean warned his sibling before he quickly cleaned out the wound with the stinging antiseptic that his brother _always_ bitched about.

Sam hissed sharply, his body's automatic response was to pull his arm away from the burning, stinging pain.

"Easy Sammy," Dean soothed, holding his brother's arm in a firm, but gentle hold, instinctively rubbing Sam's shoulder in an effort to reassure his unconscious brother.

"Hmm … you're not cold anymore." Dean muttered under his breath, fear beginning to prick at the corner of his mind as he vividly recalled his brother being so cold that Dean had to check for breathing and Sam's rising chest in order to assure himself that Sam was still alive.

"Guess you're gonna have one hell of a story to tell me when you wake up kiddo." Dean chuckled dryly, shaking his head at how drunk his little brother had been. "If you can even remember _anything_ that happened, that is." Dean amended.

Knowing his brother as well as he did, Dean knew that Sam's memories would likely have lots of holes. There was no doubt that Sam had had black outs because of how drunk he had been. Poor Sam was going to have one hell of a hangover when he woke up.

Dean had just finished applying a clean bandage to Sam's arm after stitching him back together again and was in the process of returning the first aid kit in the desk drawer, when some "Sammy-sense" that resided deeply within Dean, alerted Dean to the fact that Sam was beginning to return to a conscious state.

Hurriedly, Dean stowed away the first aid kit and raced back to his brother's side, anxiously waiting for Sam to open his big, puppy-dog eyes. Dean wouldn't be able to get a true sense of how his brother's well-being was until he looked into Sam's eyes.

Sam had always been a sensitive kid and he'd always had a harder time locking away his emotions like his father and older brother were able to do. Even when Sam was trying to lie to Dean, he was never able to pull it off completely because the lie was reflected within those big, deep hazel orbs. And Dean had been able to use that to his own advantage for years.

He had become a master of all things Sammy-related, including reading those expressive eyes which would clue Dean into if Sam was hurt, the level of pain he was in, if he was lying, scared, happy or sad, frustrated or mad, slightly irritated or fully pissed off, feeling guilt or remorse … whatever emotion Sam was feeling, Dean would be able to read it within his little brother's eyes.

Dean couldn't help the twitch of his lips when he noticed Sam screwing his eyes closed more tightly, swallowing convulsively, his right hand placed over his mouth, Dean automatically knowing that Sam was fighting his body's instincts to be sick.

"Breathe through it Sammy, you're fine." Dean encouraged, rubbing a soothing hand upon his brother's chest, knowing that Sam wasn't with it enough to feel Dean's reassuring touch, but hoping, on an unconscious level, Sam would be able to recognize the familiar touch and know that Dean was trying to soothe his uneasiness.

**DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW**

Sam was frantic. He was anxious, scared … _terrified_ at this new predicament that he found himself in; blinded and his arms held in place at his sides. He couldn't get free, no matter how hard he tried.

But he tried to curb the panic that wanted to consume him, knowing that panic wouldn't do him any good right now. He needed to calm down and focus. He needed to be clear headed and keep a certain amount of rational, logical thinking if he was going to get himself out of this unfortunate situation that he now found himself in.

Sam took a stuttering breath and let it out slowly, trying to ignore the feel of the hands that held his arms down, trying to ignore the feeling of helplessness that invaded him at being unable to free himself from a threat that Sam couldn't identify because he couldn't see.

If only Sam could _see_ what was going on, then he wouldn't feel so … vulnerable, like a scared and needy child, although Sam worked damn hard not to show those emotions to his unknown, unseen attacker.

Sam was still a Winchester. And no matter what sort of situation you found yourself in, Winchester's _never_ let the bad guys see how scared, worried or vulnerable you felt … _especially_ when the bad guys were planning your untimely death.

Sam took another deep breath, forcing himself to calm down and think logically. Okay, so it was obvious that Dean wasn't here. And even though that thought caused Sam's anxiety levels to increase – because who knew what the hell was happening to his brother?! – it also caused Sam to feel cautiously optimistic.

Because if Dean wasn't stuck in here with him, it wouldn't be too long before Dean came and rescued him from whatever the hell this was. Of that, Sam was one hundred percent certain. No matter what problems the siblings were going through, Sam knew that Dean would drop everything and come for him if Sam were in trouble.

That thought relaxed Sam even more. That was the one and only truth Sam had in this God awful world that had continually tried to push the younger Winchester down, making him doubt himself when he had done another stupid thing all because he had thought his way was the best way; trying to break Sam, causing him to feel guilt, shame and remorse because of his actions and how they had hurt the one and only person who had ever meant anything to Sam; the one and only person who had ever given a damn about him and his constant, epic screw ups.

The one truthy that Sam had always counted on and relied upon was the fact that his big brother would always come for him … no matter what, even if he didn't deserve that loyalty from the big brother who had _never_ let him down.

Sometimes Sam wondered why the hell Dean even kept him around. You would think that after all of this time, with the amount of mistakes Sam had made that had caused his older brother nothing but grief and heart ache, that Dean would have had enough of Sam by now.

Dean should have left Sam's sorry ass behind years ago. After he had returned from Hell soulless, Dean should have just killed him and moved on with his life. Because ever since then Sam had continued on his own path of self-destruction; knowing, _believing_ that what he was doing was right and justified, but all he had really succeeded in doing was hurting his big brother all over again.

Is that why Dean had decided to kill him? Before the Mark of Cain was removed, had Dean finally had enough of Sam's constant lying, his constantly betraying Dean's trust and faith in him, his constant screw ups even though Sam's intentions had been nothing but pure at the time? Had Dean finally had enough of having to clean up Sam's messes, of having to listen to Sam's constant apologies about how he had never meant for it to turn out this way?

Had Dean finally figured out that Sam Winchester was cursed, causing all of their good friends to die because everything that Sam touched and everyone he tried to help, it only ended one way: Sam being piled with more guilt, remorse and regrets and Dean drowning in anguish, hurt and resentment; realizing that once again, Dean had been betrayed by the little brother he had given up his life for?

Disgust began to fill Sam now. Not only had Sam released the Darkness – even though he had only been trying to save his brother's life – but he had also managed to get captured by some unknown enemy and Dean would be forced to save him … yet again.

God, sometimes Sam was so pathetic it made him feel physically ill. Why the hell would Dean bother with someone like him when Dean could do a lot better by himself?

"I'm gonna _fix_ it Dean." Sam could hear himself saying in a drunkenly, pleading way. "… you'll be proud of me this time round, I promise."

Sam blinked, suddenly confused, a strange sense of impending doom settling over him as more phrases and words came to mind.

"… All I have to do is change one thing, just one … and all of this … the Darkness, another _evil_ that _I_ set upon the Earth … _again_ … will be gone.

I promise Dean, I'll make it so you will be proud of me … where you wouldn't have to choose an angel, a demon or a vampire over me because you don't trust me no more or you're ashamed of me."

"Sammy … I'm _not_ ashamed of you. Nor have you disappointed me. The Darkness … we can beat her together man, you're not the only one to blame here." Dean's voice; so calm, controlled and understanding; so patient, even in the face of Sam's drunkenness.

"Why don't you tell me exactly what the spell does little bro?" Dean asked, his voice low, soft and soothing.

"One thing Dean … I can't change how we grew up in the life or Dad's obsession to find the demon … maybe I can change somethin' bout me … be like you De'n. Embrace hunting, embrace the life. No fight with Dad, no leave for Stanford; stay with you Dee … make you proud …"

"… what if you make it worse instead of better? … not going to Stanford … that would _kill_ you Sammy. You were always going to Stanford dude, no matter what."

"No! I hav'ta do this De'n. I hav'ta _try_." Sam's voice, slurred, desperately pleading for his older brother to trust him. "… I need to _fix_ it man. Please Dee, let me fix this!"

"… Sammy, you're drunk and not thinking clearly … come on Sammy, _please_. Just one night to think things over, that's all I'm asking for bro."

The voices from his mind vanished. And, in an instant, Sam knew that his biggest fears were suddenly realized because these weren't some randomly placed words and phrases. No, Sam _knew_ this was what he had said to his brother in his drunken state.

And just like Sam had feared, his guilt, resentment and self-hatred had turned inward, causing Sam to drown within his own emotions. How many times in the past had Sam wished that he could just _fix_ things between Dean and himself when the fighting between them had gotten so bad that Dean couldn't even stand to _look_ at Sam anymore?

How many times had Sam wished he could wave a magic wand and make it all better so that Dean was no longer hurting and Sam could finally breathe a little easier? Sam had wished to do those things every time he made an epic mistake which had resulted in causing his big brother nothing but pain.

If only he could stop Dean from hurting, then Sam would gladly carry the weight of that burden himself. If only Dean would stop looking at him in that hurt, distrustful way, waiting for the next time Sam would screw up; then Sam would gladly walk away from his brother and leave Dean to live out his life in peace and harmony.

But now …

Sam had obviously found a way in order to make those wishes come true, like a spell of some kind.

Oh crap!

Sam _had_ performed the spell. He _had_ gone back to the past and changed something in his life in order to change his dark destiny and not betray his older brother with the damn traitorous demon bitch!

Except … if he had done the spell and had succeeded in changing the past, then _why_ did he still have the same memories, the same guilt, the same regrets? Had it not worked or …

"Oh God Sammy, what are you doing? Stop this right now and just come home little brother. Please, before it's too late." Dean's horrified voice begged him and Sam could hear the desperation within his brother's tone, but Sam had refused to heed his brother's warning, knowing that _he_ could make this better for his brother. He _would_ succeed. And Dean would have the life and the little brother he deserved.

But, as usual, Sam had _failed_.

Pain began to ricochet within Sam's head as images began to invade Sam's mind of a life that he had tried to recreate; of a life where everything he did turned from bad to worse.

He hadn't gone to Stanford; John had become a drunk, blaming Sam for his mother's death, obsessed with trying to save Sam by beating the evil out of him; they had saved Jessica from the Demon, but she was in love with another woman, lost to Sam; Sam and Dean on their own because Dean had found out about John hurting Sam; Dean becoming bitter at their father, losing faith in the one man Dean had always idolized and admired; John, desperate to save Sam from the darkness that resided within his youngest, tried to kill him, but shooting Dean instead; Sam, filled with grief and rage, giving into the darkness, snapping his father's neck like a twig, using nothing but the power of his mind; Dean becoming scared of Sam, horrified by what his brother had done and finally … _finally_ leaving Sam's ass behind because _this_ Dean knew that Sam wasn't worth it, didn't deserve Dean's loyalty and love.

Sam gasped in horror, trying to deny these images, hoping they were nothing more than a drunken nightmare. But Sam knew better. He knew it was true. He knew he had been transported to another place, another time, he had found a way to _fix_ things. But all he had succeeded in doing was hurting his brother and failing yet again.

Even when he was given a second chance to make it right, to _do_ it right, he had obediently followed his dark destiny and given into the darkness within him.

Sam was evil.

That was the only explanation Sam could come up with. He had been tainted by Yellow-eyes and no matter what he did, he would _always_ walk down that dark path because Sam Winchester was corrupted and cursed; beyond any help or redemption what so ever.

He had been doomed to fail even before his conception. As soon as Mary had made the deal with Yellow-eyes, that had sealed Sam Winchester's fate.

He was tainted. He was evil. He would do nothing but curse his big brother, causing him nothing but heart ache and grief. Maybe he should just blow his fucking brains out and end it all.

"You think I should kill myself Bobby?" Sam asked in a wooden, dead tone, caressing the gun in his hand as if it were a long-lost lover who could solve all of his problems.

"This is the right thing to do Sam," Bobby's soft voice encouraged Sam.

"Sammy, please don't to _this_ …" Dean pleaded, his voice fill of pain. "… this is _not_ what I want little brother. I don't want you dead. Please Sammy, fight!"

Sam swallowed hard. Ah, so this suicidal feeling and the thoughts of actually committing suicide because it was the only way he could truly free his brother, must be a side-effect of the spell.

It made sense in an odd kind of way, because for so long now Sam had wished for nothing other than his own death but also knowing that he didn't deserve the peacefulness of death.

After everything he had done, Sam knew that he wouldn't be dying any time soon; not after all of the mistakes he had made; not after he kept releasing evil beings from their cages, because he had to _live_ with the knowledge of his mistakes, of what his actions had cause. He had to –

"Sammy, no! I have _never_ regretted selling my soul for you. Nor have I _ever_ wished you dead. I have _never_ wanted that for you kiddo, not ever …

There is nothing in this world that I wouldn't do for you … you are _my_ little brother. I _raised_ you and if you were to die … then I would quickly follow you … this world ain't worth living in if you're not in it. Do you understand me?

Let it go little brother … let the past stay in the past …" Dean's voice, strong with conviction and love. Had Dean really suggested that the past should stay in the past? Had Dean really forgiven Sam for everything he had done?

"You need to tell him Sam … I am willing to end this little charade and send you both back to your world, but you have to give me something in return. There are two secrets that you've withheld from Dean that you can tell Dean about …

You can tell Dean why you stopped looking for him when he was in Purgatory or you can share with him the phone message that you've kept for the last six years.

You need to come clean with Dean about one of these secrets within the next twenty-four hours or … I will create a world specifically for _Dean_ … The other secret that you don't tell Dean about … will need to be revealed to Dean within the next six months …

If you try to renege on your deal or try to trap me or trick me … the repercussions will be disastrous for the _both_ of you. I'll be watching you little Sammy …"

"I'll tell Dean about the phone message." Sam had promised the archangel-ex-trickster Gabriel.

How the hell Gabriel was still alive and how he had gotten there, remained a mystery to Sam at the moment. But he knew that there would be no way he was getting out of the deal he had made with Gabriel, so that the two brothers would be able to return to the _real_ universe.

If he tried to break it or get out of it somehow, then Dean's life would be in danger. So, Sam had no options left. He had to come clean to Dean about the phone message … and then, six months later, he had come clean about Purgatory.

So much for letting the past stay in the past.

Ah shit … this was going to be bad.


	3. Chapter 3

**Special thanks: ** to everyone who has viewed, favourited or added this story to your alerts. Your support and encouragement means a lot.

**Warnings:** Violence, abuse and more angst for the boys in this chapter.

**Note:** Sorry about the lateness of this chapter. And just one more chapter to go … hopefully. You all know my track records for endings and such. But I am aiming for one more after this one. Enjoy … I hope.

**CHAPTER THREE**

It took far longer for Sam to come around than Dean liked. He wasn't sure if Sam's sluggish response was because Sam was hungover, concussed or the after effects of being stuck in some weirdo-bizzaro world. Knowing the Winchester luck, it was probably a combination of all three, even though Dean was hoping it was either a hangover or a concussion.

Dean was just about to offer his brother a snarky, snide comment about Sam sleeping forever like a damned Princess in a Fairy-tale, when Sam decided to try to get himself up from the floor using his elbows.

Dean panicked, not wanting Sam to rip the stitches open, so he quickly grabbed Sam's left arm and held it by his brother's side, not thinking about the consequences his actions might bring and how it might seem to his not-quite-with-it little brother.

Dean was completely unprepared for Sam to start fighting him and instinct had him grabbing Sam's other arm and holding it in place. "Easy Sam, calm down or else you're gonna burst those stitches." Dean growled, hoping his voice would soothe his little brother's agitation, but instead, it only increased Sam's urge to fight.

"Hey!" Dean yelled in surprise when Sam's head almost head-butted his own head. "Calm the fuck down Sam! Now!" he ordered gruffly.

Even though Sam's eyes still remained closed and he was struggling to free his arms from Dean's hold, Sam opening and closing his mouth, almost as if he were trying to speak, Dean could detect the panic and terror upon his little brother's features.

Dean knew this kid. He prided himself on everything that was Sammy-related. He knew all of Sam's likes and dislikes; his hopes and dreams; his favourite food and music; not to mention what made Sam happy; and what made his big, lanky younger brother afraid; Dean _knew_ what triggers Sam had; he knew there were certain things that Sam hated, certain situations that caused Sam to freak out, which would bring about a problem Sam had suffered from when he was a young child inducing a panic attack.

So, the fact that Dean didn't realize that _he_ was the one causing his younger brother such distress, that he was doing something that Sam _hated_ and would definitely cause his baby brother to freak out, caused a wave of guilt covered in dread and horror to settle within the pit of Dean's stomach.

It wasn't until Sam screamed out for him in such a pitiful, terrified, vulnerable way that it finally clicked within Dean's brain what he was doing and that _he_ was the one causing his baby brother to head toward a full-blown panic attack if he didn't change tactics right now.

Dean was restraining him. Of course, Dean was doing it so Sam wouldn't hurt himself. But in Sam's confused mind, he was being restrained by _something_ or _someone_ and all he wanted was for his big brother to come and save him.

"Shit Sammy, I'm sorry," Dean swore at himself, instantly easing up on his hold. "It's okay kiddo, I'm right here." Dean soothed his frightened brother. "I'm right here buddy, you're safe. I promise. Everything's okay now, you're safe Sammy. Can you hear me? I've got you little brother."

Mercifully, Sam's struggles began to ease off and Dean thought that his brother had finally heard him and recognized his touch. But as Sam continued to just lie there, not moving, his face slack and devoid of any emotion what so ever, Dean began to get scared.

This was exactly the way Sam had been when that douchebag archangel-ex-trickster had ticked Sam into performing the spell-curse and pulled Sam into the world that Gabriel had created specifically for Sam.

No! This couldn't be happening. Not again.

Terror gripped at Dean's heart, releasing the hold he had on his brother's arms to immediately check for a pulse and breathed a sigh of relief when he felt his brother's pulse beating strong and steady under his fingertips.

Okay, so Sam was still breathing; he wasn't cold like he had been earlier, so hopefully that meant Sam had passed out and was not trapped in that parallel, weirdo bizzaro world.

"Sam?" Dean tapped his brother's check, fear racing through him. He didn't want Sam to be trapped in that horrible world. He wanted the kid here, with him. And if that _dick_ Gabriel had gone back on his word … Dean was going to find a way to track that bastard down and teach him a lesson he'd never forget.

Sam begun to come around in stages. The first thing Dean noticed was that Sam's breathing kicked up a notch, closely followed by the kid's weak struggles.

"Easy Sam," Dean soothed, knowing that Sam had to be confused about where he was and who was with him. And it didn't take much for confusion to turn into fear. "You're safe, at the Bunker, with me."

"De'n?" Sam asked, his voice soft and quiet as if to avoid making too much noise in case they were in a compromised situation.

"Yeah Sammy, it's me. I'm right here little brother," Dean assured, the slight tremble within Sam's voice not going unnoticed by Dean as he placed a hand upon his brother's chest in an effort to calm and soothe his little brother.

Instantly Sam's struggles ceased at the sound of his big brother's voice and the hand he could feel upon his upper chest, caused Sam to relax even further, recognizing it as one of the actions Dean did in order to calm Sam down.

Thank God Dean was safe, Sam thought, breathing a huge sigh of relief. His brother was here, with him and safe. But his relief turned to fear an instant later when he realized he couldn't see.

"Dean?"

"Yeah buddy?"

"Why can't I _see_?"

Dean paused at the amount of terror he could hear within his brother's voice before he quickly looked upon his brother's eyes and couldn't help but chuckle softly. "Your eyes are still closed. You know, in order to see, it works better if you actually _open_ your eyes kiddo." Dean teased in a light hearted manner.

Sam's brow crinkled in confusion. "They're closed?" he whispered in bewilderment. "But I thought that –" Sam quickly swallowed back his objections. If his brother said his eyes were closed, then Sam should _believe_ him instead of Sam thinking that his way was the right way. And why the hell would his brother _lie_ to him about something like that?

The brothers may not be in a good place right now with their relationship, but Sam knew that Dean would _never_ do something to deliberately hurt him.

"Open your eyes Sam," Dean ordered softly.

Sam nodded in agreement, not fully convinced that he even had his eyes closed to begin with. But he trusted his brother, so Sam shoved down his doubts and the next thing he knew, he was blinking rapidly while gazing upon his older brother's worried and concerned green eyes, even as Dean was smiling at Sam in unconcealed relief.

"That's good." Dean breathed. "Your pupils are the same size and they seem to be reactive, so it's highly unlikely that you have a concussion. Still, we can't be too careful. So, you know the drill little brother. Name." Dean grinned at the weak bitch-face Sam shot him.

Sam let out a huff of annoyance. "I'm _fine_ Dean, just a little hungover by the feel of the _pounding_ within my head. Besides, how can I have a concussion? It's not like I've hit my head in the past few hours. Right?"

Dean's expression sobered quickly before he shrugged in a deflective way. "Just humour me, okay Sammy?"

Dean's tone may have been light hearted and gruff, but Sam could see Dean's eyes begging for Sam to just do what he asked. The naked fear Sam could see within his brother's eyes stopped Sam's arguments dead in their tracks. Obviously, something else must have occurred here … something Sam had no memory of.

"Okay." Sam agreed.

Dean's smile reappeared once more at Sam's ready acceptance of the situation. "Name." he repeated.

"Sam Winchester." Sam replied in a bored tone.

"Otherwise known as?"

"Huh?" Sam blinked in surprise at his brother's question.

"What other names are you known by?" Dean repeated, his expression deadly serious, even though his green eyes twinkled in amusement. "Come on Sammy, you know the answer to this. It's an easy one. Whoops, guess I just gave it away. The answers I would have accepted were Sammy and Bitch. Right, next question, date of birth."

"Jerk." Sam muttered under his breath, not nearly as mad as he pretended to be, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Yep, this was just like his brother to turn a serious situation into joking and goofing off.

If Dean was teasing and joking around with him, then maybe their relationship wasn't as fractured as Sam thought, maybe they could salvage their brotherhood after all.

**DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW**

Sam's fears immediately became a reality once Sam was in a standing position, his right arm across Dean's shoulders, Dean acting as an anchor to stop Sam from swaying erratically from side to side.

"Uh … Dean …" Sam moaned miserably, feeling his stomach revolting against him. "Gonna be sick …" he got out before Dean quickly lowered Sam back into a seated position, handing Sam an empty trash can as Sam heaved violently while Dean rubbed soothing circles upon his brother's back.

"It's okay Sammy, let it all out little brother. You'll be fine." Dean said in a low, soothing voice.

"Knew … I shouldn't … have … moved …" Sam panted once his body had finished expelling all of the contents in his stomach.

Dean winced in sympathy, patting his brother on the shoulder consolingly. "Yeah, not sure drinking on an empty stomach and downing nearly a full bottle of whiskey was one of your better ideas Sammy."

Sam snorted ruefully. "That's the story of my life. Bad decisions, bad ideas and making epically _big_ mistakes."

Dean glanced at his brother sharply, not liking the bitter, hateful tone he could hear within his little brother's voice. It was too close to the sad acceptance he had seen within Sam's eyes as he contemplated killing himself with the gun he held in his hands, while Sam had been trapped in that _other_ world.

"Sam –"

"It's okay Dean," Sam offered Dean a shaky smile. "I think I might be still drunk."

Dean shook his head at Sam's obvious attempt to lighten the mood and to give Dean an out before this conversation turned into a heart to heart chick-flick moment that Dean tried to avoid at all costs.

Except, maybe it was time to talk to Sam properly; to let down his barriers, express how he really felt and what he truly thought to his overly emotional brother. Now might be the time for Dean to knock some sense into his little brother's thick head before it became this bad again; before Sam decided that he wasn't good enough to be Dean's brother and ended his life in a stupid attempt to make Dean's life easier, better.

Dean let out an internal sigh, knowing that this conversation was long overdue, but still dreading it because Dean wasn't stupid or blind. He could see how much guilt his little brother still harboured because of everything they had been through over the years.

He could see the pain within those expressive – now dulled slightly because of the drunken hangover Sam was now suffering from – puppy-dog hazel eyes every time Sam was reminded of particularly painful times within the brothers lives. He could see the dejection and depression settling over Sam every time Dean said something hateful or nasty to him – even though Dean may have been a demon at the time, corrupted by a magic coin, possessed by the Mark of Cain or pissed off and hurt because Sam had left him to rot in Purgatory – causing more pain and guilt to reside within his brother's heart.

And even though Dean had apologized and let his brother know he didn't mean any of it by showing Sam in hundreds of different ways how much Sam meant to him, Dean knew that Sam would forever carry the scars those words had created within the deepest part of his heart where they would forever cause his brother continual pain and heartache.

And as much as Dean hated to admit it, he knew that sometimes Sam _needed_ to have these awkward chick-flick moments. His little brother was an emotional sap and sometimes he needed to _hear_ what Dean really thought or felt about things.

Dean looked at his brother, noticing the slightly red tinge to his checks, his head lowered, his floppy hair covering his expression from Dean, but not before Dean detected the hurt and pain within his brother's eyes, even though Sam tried to mask it through humour and avoidance like Dean would do.

But avoiding his feelings wasn't Sam's style and Dean could see the toll of continually pushing down his feelings and not expression them was taking upon his younger brother. Sam just wasn't wired that way. He couldn't bottle up his feelings like Dean did, letting out his emotions through bouts of drinking, sexual interludes and hunting.

Dean knew that if Sam continued to bottle up his feelings, then something like this was bound to happen again in the near future. And Dean honestly couldn't go through something like this again – watching his baby brother self-destruct before his very eyes – so the only option Dean had left was to engage in one hell of a chick-flick moment.

But, looking at Sam's tired, defeated posture, Dean also knew that now wasn't the right time to get into this. No doubt Sam's hangover was in full swing and Dean could detect the squinty lines under his brother's eyes which normally indicated that Sam was suffering with a very bad headache.

The best thing he could do for Sam right now was to help his gigantic, over-grown brother to bed, tuck him in and let him sleep for a few hours before the two of them got into the biggest chick-flick moment of their lives to date.

Dean smiled softly, fondly ruffling his younger brother's hair. "Come on dude, let's get you into bed and then we can talk more when you wake up, okay?"

Sam glanced at Dean in surprise before he nodded and resigned himself to letting his big brother take him to bed like some tired, naughty child who had been caught awake long after his allocated bed time.

Sam knew that he was going to be reprimanded by his big brother, the repercussions from his drunken exploits wouldn't go unnoticed or unpunished because his actions had once again, caused the older hunter nothing but pain and disappointment.

Plus, there was the added fact that not only did Sam have to face up to the consequences of his drunken actions, but he also had to reveal a secret that he had kept hidden from Dean for the past six years. Sam wasn't quite sure how he would go about revealing that to Dean, but he definitely appreciated the extra time he would get to figure that out in the pretence of sleep.

Sam closed his eyes, smiling in gratitude when his brother offered Sam some painkillers and a bottle of water to wash them down.

"Go to sleep bitch," Dean told his stubborn younger brother, who was fighting sleep much like he had done when he was a kid.

"Yeah, whatever, you big jerk," Dean mumbled, already beginning to drift off when he felt warm feelings running though his hair, which made Sam settle down a bit easier.

Maybe he had nothing to worry about. If Dean was still taking care of him and trying to soothe him to sleep, then maybe all of Sam's fears were for nothing and maybe Dean wasn't as pissed at him as what Sam thought.

Maybe everything would be okay once he got rid of the pounding in his head and the queasiness within the pit of his stomach. Maybe once the two to them talked, they could finally concentrate on repairing the damage Sam had done to their fragile, brotherly relationship.

God, Sam truly hoped it would be as simple as that. But he had a sinking suspicion that it would get considerably worse before it got better. Still, Sam couldn't help but hope that everything would be better when he woke up.

**SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW**

Once Dean had gotten Sam settled for the night, he hadn't been able to leave him. After everything the older Winchester had done and gone through to get Sam back from the alternate, bizzaro world, Dean hadn't felt comfortable with leaving his brother alone … not even for split second.

Sam hadn't been in a good place mentally while in that strange world. After everything Sam had been put through and with Gabriel – who had taken on the face of their beloved father figure, Bobby – encouraging Sam to kill himself, Dean wasn't sure if his little brother was in any state to be left by himself at the moment.

So, Dean had gotten a chair and had sat by his brother's side for the remainder of the night, knowing that he wouldn't be able to get any more sleep. And if Dean was being perfectly honest with himself, _he_ couldn't let Sam out of his sights just yet. What if something happened to Sam and Dean couldn't get to him in time?

This whole experience had been a little too close for comfort for Dean's liking. So, the older brother had kept a silent vigil over his brother for the night and didn't move until Sam showed signs of waking up.

Once Dean determined that Sam would be okay now that his little brother was beginning to wake up, Dean quietly left Sam's room and retreated into his own room.

Dean knew Sam would suffer greatly because of his over indulgent, excessive drinking in the form of a killer hangover and wasn't overly surprised when he heard Sam vomiting and dry-retching. His natural instinct was to go and make sure Sam was okay, not wanting to see the little brother he'd raised in any kind of pain – even if it was completely self-inflicted – but Dean resisted that temptation, knowing that Sam would be embarrassed enough without Dean adding more fuel to the fire.

No, the best thing that Dean could do was to wait it out, let Sam come to him when he was ready. But deliberately ignoring his little brother's distress went against every big brother instinct in him and was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do.

Years ago, Dean wouldn't have cared about Sam's embarrassment. He would have barged into the bathroom to make sure Sam was okay before offering his brother a snide, sarcastic comment before he left.

But these days … their relationship wasn't the same. Resentment and distrust had built up between them over the years. And instead of getting down to the nitty-gritty of the issues, both brothers had pushed down their feelings and tried to carry on as if nothing had happened. Which hadn't been too good or healthy for either Winchester sibling.

Their feelings of hurt, resentment, guilt and distrust had only festered over the years until both brothers were left broken inside, their natural sync with each other dissipating to the point where the brothers often had misunderstandings, which only contributed to the hurt festering inside of them.

This self-destructive cycle that both brothers were on, had to stop. If they didn't forgive each other and themselves for all of the crap that had happened over the years, then they were doomed.

Nearly loosing Sam because of the warped misunderstandings between them because Sam _believed_ that Dean would be better off without him or because he _thought_ Dean deserved a better younger brother, that Sam wasn't good enough, proved to Dean that things had to change dramatically between them and fast before one of them lost their lives because of these perceived perceptions that they had of each other.

Never once had Dean wanted a different brother. Not once had Dean thought Sam wasn't good enough. And never had Dean wished that Sam had never been born, that he thought his life would be better without his baby brother in it.

To know that's how Sam really felt, why he had been so determined to perform the spell in the first place, made Dean feel sick with grief; stunned and horrified beyond words. His life would have been _worse_ without Sam. Of that, Dean was one hundred percent certain. And the fact Sam didn't know that …

Dean swallowed hard, deciding not to dwell on that thought for too long, only now beginning to see how his own actions and words had contributed to that warped logic within his brother's brain. But Dean was determined to sort it out once and for all. Dean would let down his barriers, let Sam _see_ how he truly felt without all of the bitterness and guilt.

It was time the brothers finally had the serious talk that they should have had years ago; to start with a clean slate and let all of the other shit go. It was time to let the past stay in the past.

**DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW**

The next morning found Sam Winchester huddled upon the ground, his hands gripping tightly to the sides of the toilet seat, steadying himself as he hurled up nothing but stomach bile because he had _nothing_ left in his stomach to throw up, considering he had been throwing up on and off the past hour now; his body shaking from the violence of being sick, feeling extremely sorry for himself.

He'd been wrong. Everything wasn't better when he'd woken up. True to Sam Winchester luck, things had only become worse.

Sam had woken up alone, but there had been signs that his brother had been in his room to check on him at least once or twice during the night. A bottle of water in case Sam woke up thirsty, a packet of painkillers and a bottle of Gatorade in case Sam needed to replenish his energy after vomiting, were all neatly placed upon his bed-side table.

It kind of sucked how well his brother knew him. And although Sam should feel infuriated for being treated like a child – he'd even had the blankets tucked in around him like he was five-years old for goodness sakes – he couldn't help the overwhelming feeling of being loved and cared for that these simple acts of consideration for Sam's well-being and not wanting Sam to suffer, instilled in the youngest Winchester.

After fearing that he had disappointed his big brother yet again to the point where Dean wouldn't want to talk to him, let alone _look_ at him, it was a refreshing change to know that Dean still cared enough to look after him, even though Sam's sickness was completely self-inflicted.

Sam let out a long, weary sigh, his whole body aching and sore as if he had fought with an entire hoard of vampires or something equally nasty the night before instead of becoming drunk and doing a lot of crazy, embarrassing things.

Sam groaned loudly, blushing deeply with shame as he hauled himself to his feet and decided to take a shower before he faced his brother, having to apologize – yet again – for everything he had said and done while under the influence of alcohol.

Sam was sick of apologizing. He was _tired _of screwing up, but knowing Dean as well as he did, Sam hoped he could get away without too much of an explanation for the incidents of the previous night – his big brother didn't do _feelings_ – and putting all of this behind them to _try_ and move forward.

Sam didn't have time to dwell on his own self-induced misery. He had research to do. He had to go through every book in the Men of Letter's library and data base to see if they had any information on the Darkness and how Sam could go about defeating it or putting it back in its cage.

Sam had let off some steam last night – said a whole bunch of stuff he wished he hadn't – but today, he had to get serious; get down to business and do what he did best … clean up the mess he had made this time.

The hot water from the shower soothed and unknotted the muscles within Sam's neck and Sam couldn't help the moan of relief as he felt his whole body begin to relax under the spray of the hot water.

Sam made sure to keep his bandaged left arm dry, because the last thing he needed was to have Dean bitch at him about getting the bandage wet on top of everything else and his epic hangover.

Under the spray of hot water, Sam's headache seemed to melt away and he wished that he could stay under this hot water until his hangover left him entirely, but Sam knew that the hot water wouldn't last long enough for him to recover from his hangover. Dean seemed to be able to recover from a hangover within a few hours. Sam, on the other hand, would take _days_ to recover from a bender like this. Hence why Sam didn't drink too often.

"I'm getting too old for this shit." Sam muttered to himself, shutting off the water and grabbing a towel in which he could dry off.

Sam towelled off slowly, his head pounding even more when he had to bend down. It wasn't until Sam went to put on his shirt, struggling to get his bandaged arm in the sleeve, when out of the corner of his eye he spotted a scar that he had never seen before upon his left shoulder.

What the hell …

Sam frowned, confused for a few moments until memories from that other life – the other world – came unbidden into Sam's mind of a time when Sam hadn't gone to Stanford and where John Winchester had become so obsessive in his desire to "save" Sam that he honestly believed he could "beat" the evil out of his youngest son.

Images of Sam being strung up in a dusty old barn's rafters, completely naked, while John _whipped_ Sam's unprotected back, trying to whip the evil out of his youngest, convinced that Sam had allowed Dean to become purposely hurt on a hunt they had just finished, sprang into Sam's mind.

Sam could vividly recall the pain of the whip striking his back, wishing that _this_ time John could cure Sam of his evilness because Sam wasn't sure how much longer he could keep his manically, protective older brother from finding out about John's so-called good intentions.

Sam gasped, the terrifying, violent images leaving him and Sam almost dry heaved, sickened and horrified that _his father_ had turned into a drunken, obsessive, paranoid, abusive man all because Sam had never attended Stanford.

Sam almost didn't believe the images, couldn't believe that _his_ Dad had turned into a bitter old man, becoming almost as bad as they monsters they hunted; but when Sam took a closer look at his back, he could see rough, jagged scars littering the entire length of his back which, did indeed, look suspiciously like they had been caused by a whip.

Holy shit.

That alternate world had been more fucked up than Sam had thought. No wonder that world hadn't become a reality. Sam couldn't imagine wanting to stay in a world where John Winchester brutally whipped his son, becoming more insane and crazier as one day rolled into the next, becoming increasingly more desperate to "save" his son from yellow-eyes' wicked plans. And if John had been like that … it made Sam wonder just how differently Dean had been in that parallel world.

Sam shook his head, deliberately pushing that thought to the back of his mind, not wanting to see his beloved older brother turning on him like his father had done … even if Sam had deserved it.

"You need to come clean with Dean about one of these secrets within the next twenty-four hours or … I will create a world specifically for _Dean_ …"

Sam shuddered violently at Gabriel's not so subtle threat. If that's how Sam's world was, there was no way that Sam could allow for Dean to be trapped in a world like that. Sam had no choice. He had to come clean to Dean about the phone message, and he had to do it today.

The smell of food waffling from the kitchen, let Sam know where his big brother was and the smell of food did absolutely nothing to settle his overly sensitive stomach.

Sam swiped the painkillers and bottle of Gatorade off his night-stand, downing a couple of pills while taking large swallows of the drink before he exchanged the painkillers for his cell phone – which he placed in his jean pocket, bottle of Gatorade in his right hand – deciding that he had procrastinated enough. It was time for him to face Dean and face up to the consequences of his actions.


	4. Chapter 4

**Special thanks: ** to everyone who has viewed, favourited or added this story to your alerts. Your support and encouragement mean a lot.

**Warnings:** No violence, but lots of angst and self-incrimination.

**Note:** Sorry for the long overdue up date that I was supposed to have posted _weeks _ago, but got busy with work and being sick. Anyway, if anyone is still interested in this story, this isn't the last chapter. I know, me and endings … I am working on the next chapter as we speak. If you have a moment, let me know what you think.

**CHAPTER FOUR**

As soon as Dean heard the shower start, he knew it would be safe enough to exit his room. Dean would like nothing better than to lie upon his bed and fall into a deep, undisturbed sleep, but until he'd had a chance to talk to Sam and determine how mentally stable his brother was, Dean knew that it would be pointless for him to sleep. He would spend the majority of the time listening out for his brother, not wanting to go through another experience like he'd had last night.

So, Dean got up from his bed, and giving it a fond pat goodbye with promises to sleep in it soon, Dean exited his room and pulled his weary body down the long corridor and into the kitchen.

Dean wasn't sure if food would help or hinder the youngest Winchester, but Dean knew the kitchen was the safest place in the bunker in which to have their brotherly conversation, which would more than likely turn very emotional and click-flicky.

With food on the table, it would make it that much harder for Sam to walk out if he didn't like what Dean had to say, because Sam was the type of person who would appreciate the effort Dean had gone through to cook a meal and would try his best to eat no matter how sick he felt. His baby brother was too polite to not sit at the table – even if he didn't have anything to eat himself – patiently waiting for Dean to finish his meal before he made up some excuse to leave. He wouldn't want to hurt Dean's feelings by flat out refusing to eat or sit at the table. So, Dean knew that he would be able to keep Sam sitting for at least fifteen minutes while Dean ate his meal … thirty minutes if Dean ate agonizingly slowly.

Plus, Dean always felt better "talking" when there was food in front of him to distract and distance himself from the conversation if it became too personal or too … emotional.

But, for Sam, Dean would put all of that avoidance aside, he would swallow his _man_ pride and … _share_ his feelings and thoughts with his baby brother in the hopes of avoiding going through Gabriel's weirdo, bizzaro world ever again because Sam wanted to make a better life for Dean.

Dean let out a long, weary sigh as he quickly went about cleaning up the glass Sam had spilled in his drunken state, running a mop over the trail of blood his brother had left behind, before Dean went about cooking up a simple, well proven breakfast that could cure hangovers – according to Dean Winchester's book of simple but effective curse for hangovers – bacon and eggs with toast and hash browns. And because his brother was such a _girl_, Dean made sure to scramble the eggs instead of frying them as Dean usually preferred them.

Man, the things Dean would put up with and do for his kid brother … he deserved a damn medal for this. One that would say "Dean Winchester is the _best_ brother in the whole world!".

Dean grinned, imaging that specific scenario within his mind, humming softly to himself in order to distract him from thinking about how long Sam was taking in the shower and whether his little brother was all right, when he sensed his brother's presence behind him.

Dean turned, a bright smile upon his features, seeing Sam standing in the doorway, his wet hair hanging limply in his eyes, Sam's shoulders slumped, looking paler than usual, shuffling uncomfortably from one foot to the other, the guilt and remorse radiating off of him in waves, hanging his head in shame, his posture and demeanour screaming that he was deeply humiliated and embarrassed about his behaviour from the night before.

"Morning sunshine," Dean said in an obnoxiously loud and cheerful voice. "How's the head feeling today?"

Sam's head shot up and he glared at Dean so hard that Dean couldn't help but chuckle in genuine amusement.

"Yeah, I figured you'd be a little worse for wear and tear today little brother," Dean couldn't help but tease as he dished out the breakfast onto two plates. "Here you go Sammy, the breakfast that's a proven hangover cure awaits you." Dean announced, placing both plates upon the table along with two cups of coffee and a bottle of water for Sam.

"Come on Sam, what are you waiting for? Come and eat before it gets cold." Dean waved his silent younger brother over to the table while Dean sat down and began to dig into his breakfast.

Reluctantly, Sam moved forward and sat in the seat Dean indicated and began to move his food around on his plate with his fork, looking slightly green at the food presented before him.

Just as Dean predicted, his little brother was too damn polite to leave Dean sitting at the table alone to eat the breakfast Dean had specifically made for his sick little brother. Now Dean could bide his time, wait for Sam to relax a bit before they got this very serious discussion under way.

**DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW**

Sam was surprised by the small talk Dean made while the two brothers sat at the table and ate breakfast (well, Sam was more pushing his food around on his plate than actually eating it, but he _had_ taken a couple bites of the scrambled eggs, knowing that Dean had made them specifically for him).

Sam had expected to be reprimanded and admonished by Dean the instant he'd entered the kitchen, and the fact that he hadn't been both confused and relieved the younger Winchester.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to get this over with as soon as possible or to avoid it until it became absolutely necessary to talk. Either way, Sam was tense, waiting for the other shoe to drop; anxiously waiting for the moment his big brother would tear into him about how dangerous and _stupid_ his actions had been last night.

Sam had gotten lucky, that he'd managed to strike a deal with Gabriel to return the two brothers to their world, their reality. If Sam had gotten Dean hurt, killed or stuck within that God-awful world, Sam would never have forgiven himself. He had been fortunate that the two of them had escaped that encounter relatively unharmed.

Sam fumbled with the phone that sat securely within his jean front pocket, knowing that he _had_ to reveal this secret to Dean if he was going to save Dean from being transported into his own world, but not quite sure how to start that conversation.

How much of last night did Dean actually remember? Did Gabriel somehow zap his memories of Sam's weirdo, bizzaro world? Is that why Dean wasn't mentioning it? Or was Dean so angry with Sam, wanting to avoid _any_ mention of Sam's drunken escapades that he was deliberately acting like he knew nothing about it at all?

Sam shook his head at that thought. No, that didn't make sense. If Dean was _that_ angry with him, then Sam would know about it. Sam chanced a glance at his older brother, not noticing anything out of the ordinary. Dean looked like he did any other day when he had a plate full of food in front of him, but Sam could see beyond his brother's carefully crafted outward facade; he could see the tension within his brother's broad shoulders and the worry lines that graced his features, not to mention the subtle looks Dean would shoot him whenever he thought Sam wasn't looking.

His big brother wasn't pissed at him at all … he was worried. Extremely worried, if Sam had interpreted his brother's body language correctly. And Sam didn't know if that made him feel less nervous or more anxious than before.

Sam had been expecting to deal with anger. He had prepared himself for his older brother's explosive and volatile temper whenever Sam did something unbelievably stupid and endangered _both_ of their lives. He was _used_ to Dean's indifference, with slight bursts of anger. Used to Dean's bouts of wanting to be alone as he fought the effects of the Mark of Cain. He was used to Dean excluding him, used to being ignored and belittled.

He had gotten surprisingly good at combating Dean's anger, indifference and his need for solitude. So, this worry and concern that he now detected within his older brother, caused Sam to falter, not sure of his next move now. Sam could deal with anger; would take the numerous days of Dean's infamous silent treatment and being ignored because Dean was pissed at him. He could deal with it because Sam knew that eventually Dean would get over it.

But if Dean was worried, concerned _and_ hurt … that required a whole different strategy all together and Sam wasn't ready emotionally to deal with that kind of fall out, knowing that Dean would _never_ get over it if the Ruby-thing and leaving him to rot in Purgatory was anything to go by.

Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearing his throat a couple of times in order to reveal the first secret to Dean, but Sam couldn't get the words out over the large lump of fear that had lodged in his throat; not knowing the right way to proceed with such a delicate subject as the apocalypse-Ruby-demon-blood thing because both siblings had avoided talking about _that_ particular subject when Sam had returned from hell soulless.

Sam, of course, never brought it up because he was soulless and petty things like guilt, remorse and _emotions_ didn't mean anything to him. And Dean never talked about it because it still hurt Dean to think about how Sam had betrayed him with the demon-bitch, choosing a _demon_ over his own flesh and blood brother.

Sam could still see the hurt and betrayal within his brother's green eyes whenever anyone mentioned that particular time within the brothers lives and Sam had known that was one wound his brother would never fully recover from; so Sam had stopped mentioning it, not wanting to cause his beloved older brother any more pain than he had already caused.

But now … now Sam had to open up that can of worms and _talk_ about _that_ time if he was to reveal his first secret to Dean. He had to open up Dean's wound, poke and prod at it, seeing the deep hurt and betrayal within those green eyes Sam had grown up idolizing.

God, Gabriel could be such a … _dick_ sometimes. Sam didn't want to do this. He didn't want to open up those old feelings of embarrassment and disappointment that Dean still harboured. He didn't want to bring it all back to the surface, hurting his big brother all over again. He didn't want to be the one who caused his big brother nothing but disappointment and pain. Sam was _sick_ of being the one who continually hurt Dean over and over again.

But because of Gabriel's terms of the deal they had stuck and because Sam _couldn't_ see Dean in an alternate horror world of his own, Sam would have no choice but to bring all of that back to the surface and risk hurting his big brother all over again.

Sam closed his eyes, taking a couple of deep breaths in order to steady and calm himself down, wishing – not for the first time today – that he hadn't decided to drink the night before. If he had never gotten shit faced drunk, then _none_ of this would have happened and Sam wouldn't have to reveal a secret that he'd hoped would never see the light of day.

With a silent pray to whoever was listening that Dean would forgive him for what he was about to do, Sam opened his eyes, surprised to find steady green eyes staring back at him, determined to get this out now while he'd managed to gather a little bit of courage.

"Dean, there's something that I –"

"So, what do you remember about last night Sam?" Dean interrupted, his tone steady, his eyes holding Sam's own gaze while Sam struggled to find an appropriate answer to that question.

"Um … what?" Sam blinked at Dean, gaping at him as if Dean had spoken another language and Sam didn't understand him.

"Last night," Dean persisted with a long more patience than he thought he'd have considering the subject they were about to discuss. "What exactly do you remember?"

"Um …" Sam dropped his eyes, trying to think up a response that wouldn't make him sound like a raving lunatic because what if Dean had no knowledge or memory of what had happened in Sam's _other_ world? Sam wouldn't put it past that crafty, crazy son of a bitch to add one more _surprise_ that Sam was unaware of.

"More than I'd like to." Sam admitted truthfully, looking up to see that Dean was looking at him, a serious, sincere expression upon his face.

"Tell me," Dean urged, nodding in encouragement.

Sam hesitated for a split second before a bitter laugh escaped him. "Aside from all of the embarrassing things I said to you while I was drunk, I've been having these crazy images and kind of flash back memories –"

"Let me guess," Dean interrupted Sam once more. "You've been having "memories" of a world that never was; of a world where you never went to Stanford; where Dad was an abusive asshole and Jessica was into chicks; where you and I used your visions to save people and Dad decided that the only way to "save" you was to kill you, but he shot me instead; which led to you unleashing your … _gifts_, snapping Dad's neck like a twig using nothing but the power of your mind; which caused me to distrust and hate you, leaving you alone to walk the dark path Yellow-eyes had set out for you all of those years ago; only to be confronted by "Bobby" who tried his best to convince you that shooting yourself in the God damn head was the only way you could truly save me."

Dean paused to take a breath before he carried on in a lower tone and Sam could detect the hurt and fear within his brother's voice, even though Dean tried to keep his voice as neutral and natural as possible.

"After you _very_ seriously considered the idea of killing yourself and once I arrived in that world to kick your damn ass for even _considering_ it, "Bobby" tried to turn us against each other and it was only later that we learned it wasn't Bobby at all but was that damn trickster in disguise, who, with the help of _Dad_ had made this world specifically for you in the hopes of bringing us closer together, to fix our brotherhood and trust issues, while Dad's only objective was to "talk" to us one more time.

Have I left anything out?" Dean tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Oh yeah, and all of this came about because _you_ decided to take it upon yourself to change our futures in the form of a spell-curse; but Gabriel had deliberately designed it so that whatever decision you made, it would always turn out badly.

And because of the _curse_ factor, I was left _here_, seeing weird scars appear upon your body, while your actual body grew colder and colder and I _knew_ that you were dying right before my eyes but there wasn't a damn thing I could do to stop it because you wouldn't listen to me and come back … even when I _begged_ you to."

Sam stared at Dean, completely shocked into speechlessness as Dean shook his head and let out a brief, bitter chuckle. "I hate to tell you this Sammy, but yeah, _that_ really happened."

Well, shit.

Sam was hoping that all of those flash-back images he'd been seeing was nothing more than his over active imagination or a very vivid dream. But after Dean's words, Sam couldn't deny it any longer. Everything Sam had been experiencing and seeing over the last twelve hours was true and that included the strange scars that he had seen upon his back.

"Fuck." Sam whispered, fearfully awaiting his older brother's explosive temper because of the extremely dangerous situation Sam had put the two of them in because of his sudden impulsive decision to try and fix their brotherly relationship by using a spell.

Sam decided that he was _never_ touching another drop of alcohol ever again.

**SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW**

Dean watched the kaleidoscope of emotions that flashed through his brother's hazel eyes, patiently waiting for all of that information to settle and register within his brother before he proceeded.

"Dad was there?" Sam asked in surprise.

"Yeah, Dad was there. He conspired with Gabriel, helped him set it up."

Sam frowned and Dean could see the millions of questions Sam wanted to ask within his eyes before Sam shook his head. "I … I don't know what to say Dean," he admitted, checks reddened with embarrassment and shame. "I'm sorry," he ventured warily.

Dean couldn't help but snort at that. "Sorry?" he repeated. "That's all you have to say on the matter is _sorry_?"

After all of the pain, fear and worry Dean had gone through while seeing his little brother close to death both in _this_ world and the weirdo, bizzaro world; after everything Dean had done and gone through in order to get to his brother and prevent him from killing himself as well as protecting and defending him to, not only "Bobby" but their Dad as well; even after Dean had stood up to the old man, gone toe to toe with John Winchester on behalf of his kid brother and the only explanation Sam could give was _sorry_?

Yeah, Dean was going to need a lot more than sorry this time.

"I was drunk," Sam tried again. "I didn't know what I was doing. I wasn't in my right mind and I'm … sorry."

"That's weak Sammy," Dean shook his head, suddenly irritated with his brother because he _knew_ that Sam was holding back. "Yeah, you were drunk, but you still seemed very determined to perform that spell-curse and you were not taking "no" for an answer. So, try again Sam."

Sam looked up at Dean in bewilderment. "I don't know what you want me to say Dean." He sighed in both defeat and resignation. "I _am_ sorry. I'm sorry I was drunk. I'm sorry that I dragged you into this. I'm sorry that you had to come and save my stupid ass … again.

I'm sorry if I caused you any hurt or pain or … I'm sorry that you had to fight with Dad for me. I'm sorry that you were forced to clean up another one of my messes." Sam met Dean's steady gaze and Dean could see the regret and remorse within those large hazel eyes. "So, yeah Dean, that's all I can say because _I am sorry_.

I know that's not what you want to hear. And I know that you're sick of those words coming out of my mouth, but I don't know …" Sam's shoulders sagged dejectedly, his hazel eyes growing wider by the second, pleading for Dean to understand, tears shimmering within the corners of his eyes, swallowing hard as he tried to express how truly sorry, he really was. "Dean, _please_ …"

It was that last word, the dreaded "p" word which broke Dean's steely resolve because he could hear his little brother's unspoken plea in that one word: _Dean, __**please**__ don't be mad_.

And damn those huge puppy-dog, expressive hazel eyes because, even now, Dean Winchester was not immune to his little brother's wounded puppy-dog look.

Dean let out a long sigh, all of his frustration and irritation leaving him in that sigh as he gazed upon his brother's pitiful expression. "I'm not mad Sammy," he assured his sibling, his tone low and soft. "And I know you're sorry. I know that you were drunk and you didn't mean for it to turn out this way. I know that you had good intentions, that you only wanted to help, but Sammy, what you did … what you _tried_ to do … it wasn't right dude. You get that, right? You get that doing a spell-curse to fix your problems … _our_ problems wasn't the right way to go about fixing this, right?"

"Yeah Dean, I do." Sam's voice soft, fill of remorse, regret and self-loathing.

"Do you?" Dean pressed, not convinced Sam was getting the message he was trying to get across.

Sam glanced up at Dean in shocked surprise. "Of course, I do." He said, both defensively and indignantly. "I'm not a complete idiot. And contrary to what you or anyone else believes, I _do_ learn from my mistakes."

"I know you do little brother," Dean acknowledged, a note of pride within his voice. "I know that you do the best you can. I know that you have a heart of gold and you never mean to hurt anyone. But Sammy … _I_ can't go through something like this again."

Sam's face paled at Dean's words, his expression stoic and unreadable as he closed in on himself. "I understand." Sam nodded, accepting that if he screwed up one more time then Dean would walk out the door and leave his sorry ass behind.

Dean was done; Sam could see it in his brother's eyes. Dean was done fixing up Sam's messes. And the next time Sam screwed up, he would be left on his own to clean it up himself.

"It won't happen again Dean,"

Dean almost rolled his eyes and slapped his brother around the back of the head when he realized that Sam had gotten his meaning and message completely wrong.

Again, misunderstandings were starting to creep back into the brother's lives. And in the past, Dean would normally have left it at that and they would have moved on, Dean confident that he had gotten his point across, not realizing that the actual point Sam had received was completely different to the one Dean had been trying to get across.

But this time, Dean decided to emphasize the point. He decided to keep on pushing hard, until Sam had gotten the correct point Dean was trying to make. And if it took all night for Dean to achieve that, then that's what he'd do.

"Sam, you need to _talk_ to me dude. I need you to understand that what you did, it scare –"

"I get it Dean," Sam interjected, his jaw set in stubbornness, his expression and body language completely closed off now. "I fucked up and I get it, okay Dean? We'll just chalk this up to another one of your little brother's screw ups and move on, shall we?"

Sam stood to his feet, his normally expressive hazel eyes hard and cold, firmly relaying to Dean that this conversation was over.

"Sammy, wait," Dean stood to his feet also and put a hand upon his younger brother's shaking shoulder to keep him from leaving. "You're completely missing the point I'm trying to make here little brother. Just let me explain –"

"No, I think I got the message loud and clear Dean." Sam snapped; his heart pounding so fast that he thought it would burst out of his chest.

Sam had been wrong. Dean _was_ pissed at him. So pissed, that the ultimatum Dean had given him was crystal clear in Sam's mind. If he fucked up one more time then Sam was out the door because Dean was tired of saving his sorry ass.

Dean was done. And honestly, Sam couldn't blame him. He understood; he did. But that didn't mean it didn't hurt any less to know that he had finally broken Dean down to the point where even _he_ had conceded defeat.

Sam never thought he'd see the day when Dean would finally give up on him; but here it was; message received loud and clear. And since Sam's past track record of making massively, epically big mistakes was almost a given, Sam knew that he'd be out on his own sooner rather than later. He just hoped he managed to find a way to defeat the Darkness or trap it before he succumbed to his natural default mode of making mistakes.

Now that Sam knew how angry Dean really was with him … how in the world was he supposed to reveal the first secret now? How could he tell Dean about the phone message?

Sam was almost tempted _not_ to tell Dean, but then he remembered Gabriel's threat and he knew that he had to tell Dean. If he didn't, Dean would be trapped in his own hellish nightmare world and Sam would rather _die_ … would rather face up to being kicked out on his ass once Dean learned the truth, than to let his big brother suffer in a world like that.

"Sammy, I –"

"It's okay Dean," Sam's reassuring smile trembled upon his lips as Sam fought to keep his damn emotions at bay for just a little while longer. "You don't need to explain. I get it. I _do_. And I _am sorry_ that I put you through all of this. And no more drinking, I swear." Sam forced a hollow laugh out, trying to keep the matter light, knowing his big brother would hate it even more if Sam succumbed to his feelings.

"I just … thanks for the breakfast, but I think I'll head back to my room now." Sam's smile stayed in place this time as he slowly back-tracked toward the kitchen door way.

"Oh, when you're done with breakfast, there's something I need to tell you." Sam tried to make his voice sound normal and nonchalant, but even _he_ could hear the slight wavering within his voice. "It's nothing important," Sam continued, not sure if he was trying to convince himself or his brother as he waved his hand dismissively. "Just … I'd like to talk to you later … when you're not busy okay?"

Without waiting for Dean's reply, Sam pivoted on his heels and practically _ran_ back to his room, the smile slipping from his lips the moment he was out of Dean's sight to be replaced by trembling lips, his eyes watering no matter how many times he tried to blink them away and Sam realized that he was dangerously close to _bawling_; not something he'd done since … God, Sam couldn't even remember the last time he had _bawled_ like a damn girl, but Sam made sure to choke back on his sobs until he'd reached the privacy of his room.

He'd give into his emotions for a little while, before he pulled it all back in and confronted Dean with the longest held secret Sam had ever deliberately withheld from his brother. And whatever happened after Sam revealed it … well, it would be whatever it would be and Sam would have to _deal_ with it.

After all, it was because of his own stupidity and impulsiveness that he was in this mess to begin with. And Sam would face up to the fall out of his mistake with pride and dignity. He wouldn't argue with Dean, no matter what the verdict may be. He would accept the consequences of his actions and then would move on to correcting his latest mistake; loose himself in research, push down his emotional baggage once more by diving back into hunting.

But for now, … for now Sam would lose himself to his emotions, loose himself in his despair, his grief and his guilt, wishing that he'd had the courage to just pull that God damn trigger when he'd had the chance.

And maybe he would. When all of this was over, once Sam had either defeated the Darkness or stuffed it back in its cage, once Sam made sure that Dean was no longer in danger, maybe then Sam would have the courage to end it all and to truly save his big brother once and for all.

**SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW**

Dean was left standing there like an idiot, blinking in confusion, stunned as he watched his younger brother disappear right before his eyes, wondering how everything had turned to shit so quickly.

Dean had thought he'd been making progress, could see his little brother start to open up, beginning to relax, could see the walls Sam had erected to protect himself begin to crumble and then …

Dean wasn't quite sure what had happened, but he had seen the moment Sam had closed back up, had seen those big puppy-dog eyes grow cold and distant as Sam pulled back, trying to act like he was fine; that everything was fine, but Dean could _feel_ the hurt radiating off of his brother.

He could see the tremors within his brother's body which indicated to Dean that Sam was _scared_. Of what though, Dean had no clue. Dean had _no_ idea of what could have sent Sam scurrying off like that. He had _no_ idea of what was going on in that kid's mind. And that thought, right there, scared Dean more than he liked to admit.

For as long as Dean could remember, Dean had _always_ been able to tell what was wrong with Sam, but now … Dean honestly couldn't fathom _why_ his brother had closed up like that and run off, scared, afraid and hurting.

"Fuck," Dean cursed, running an agitated hand through his hair, looking around the kitchen as if the answer to his little brother's strange behaviour could be found in that room.

One thing Dean did know for sure was that he wouldn't leave his brother alone when he was obviously distressed and upset like that. Dean was going after him and they would be finishing their discussion and Dean _would_ find out what was going on in his little brother's head because the last time Dean had left Sam alone like this – defeated, hurt and broken – Sam had decided that a spell-curse could fix all of their problems, almost becoming convinced that a bullet to the head would set Dean free and truly save him once and for all.

Dean _couldn't_ watch his brother self-destruct like that again. He couldn't watch as his baby brother thought that the only way out was to kill himself. He couldn't … he'd only just managed to pull Sam from the brink of that dark abyss, he couldn't go through that again. Sam would _not_ be descending down that path, not ever again if Dean had anything to do or say about it.

The crippling fear that had gripped at Dean's heart was suddenly replaced by fierce determination. No more misunderstandings were coming between them ever again.

Dean would be setting the record straight, he would make Sam _understand_ that killing himself was _never_ an option and if Sam ever gave into that dark desire and actually succeeded in killing himself, then he would be signing Dean's own death warrant as well because Dean didn't want to live in a world without Sam and he would quickly follow his brother into death.

Dean would build up the kid's self-confidence, his self-worth. He would make Sam see that he was a good person, he did deserve to be happy and all of this guilt that he harboured and carried because he thought he was evil or he had let Dean down, had to go; Sam had to get rid of it all or else he would descend back down this self-destructive path and maybe the next time this happened, Dean wouldn't be able to prevent his baby brother from doing the unthinkable.

But now, right now, Dean could nip this whole thing in the butt. Dean had promised himself that he would let down his own emotional walls and let Sam _see_, but maybe Dean had been too judgemental, maybe he had been too pushy, too quick to get his point across that he had only ended up scaring his brother instead of being understanding and letting the poor guy speak.

Dean suddenly realized that he hadn't even given Sam a chance to explain himself. And when Sam had tried, Dean had scoffed, had basically told Sam it wasn't good enough, that _he_ wasn't good enough.

"Sonuvabitch!" Dean slammed his hands down upon the table in frustration, suddenly realizing that _he_ hadn't given Sam a chance to explain himself because as far as Dean was concerned, he was the big brother and he knew best.

And given the fact that Sam had just released the Darkness and almost gotten both of them stuck in an alternate world, Dean had just taken control like he always did, not trusting Sam to make any logical decisions because his little brother had screwed up again which meant that Dean had to take control and steer them both back on course, bring them back to the right path.

God, was Dean really that egotistical and self-absorbed? When the hell had Dean stopped caring and giving a damn about his brother? When the hell had Dean stopped seeing Sam as his little brother and started to treat him more as a hinderance, a liability, because Dean was forever having to clean up his messes?

And it was then that everything began to click within Dean's mind. He had always assumed that Sam was the problem, that because Sam kept screwing up, that was why their relationship, their brotherhood was fractured.

No, Dean was to blame as well.

As soon as Dean had stopped listening to Sam, as soon as Dean had stopped _believing_ in Sam, that's when the problems had started; that's when the misunderstandings between them had accumulated to such a degree that Sam could no longer trust himself and Dean … Dean had stopped treated Sam like a brother years ago.

Ah, crap!

It may take a little longer to repair their brotherhood than what had originally thought. And now that Dean realized the error of his ways, he was going to fix this. Sam had to regain his self-confidence and Dean … he had to start treating Sam like his little brother once again.

But, before Dean could start to build up the trust the brothers had lost over the years, he had to go and check on his wayward brother before Sam did something Dean couldn't save him from.


	5. Chapter 5

**Special thanks: ** to **Pie Love Luci **for your review and kind words, and to everyone who has viewed, favourited or added this story to your alerts. Your support and encouragement mean a lot.

**Warnings:** No violence, but lots of angst and self-incrimination.

**Note:** Hope you all enjoy this chapter. If you have a moment, let me know what you think.

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Dean approached his little brother's closed bedroom door and hesitated. He couldn't believe how royally fucked up that discussion had gone with Sam. It was supposed to have been the talk of the Century, the talk where both brothers let down their walls and barriers and truly expressed themselves like they hadn't done in years, and where the healing of their wounds could finally start to heal and they could rebuild all of the trust that they'd lost over the years, repairing the fractured relationship of their brotherhood so that the two of them could become whole once more.

But … Dean had fucked it up. He hadn't given his brother a chance to explain, had tried to dictate every aspect of the conversation, not letting Sam explain himself and when Sam had tried to explain, Dean had shot him down.

Dean had only wanted to make things right between them, but now Dean realized that he had only made things worse. Dean used to listen when Sam tried to explain something. In fact, Dean used to _encourage_ Sam to express himself and his feelings, knowing that Sam didn't do any good when he bottled up those feelings.

But all Dean seemed to be doing lately was shutting his brother down. Every time Sam tried to speak about anything emotional or feeling related, Dean would shut him down. Whenever Sam had any objections or reservations about Dean's plans, Dean would over-ride him and shut him down.

Dean wondered when he had stopped being the supportive older brother, who wanted for nothing but happiness, encouraging his brother to _talk_; and started to become this cold and distant person, snapping orders at Sam, expecting him to obey without complaint, pulling Sam back into line when he went off the rails or went off script, when he did something that was _not_ part of Dean Winchester's plan.

When the hell had Dean turned into a damn drill Sargent, demanding that Sam obey his orders implicitly? When the hell had Dean stopped being the big brother and turned into –

"Holy crap, I've become just like _Dad_." Dean whispered in both fear and horror, shocked that he had become like the one person he'd sworn never to become … at least, when it came to Sam.

It wasn't that John Winchester was a _bad_ person; hell, he was still one of the best hunters Dean had ever known and Dean had _always_ looked up to the man, aspired to be like the great hunter his Dad was. But when it came to the relationships with his sons … John wasn't so good at that.

John had never understood Sammy – or him – had barked orders at the kid, expecting complete obedience and compliance. And Sam … he'd never taken well to being ordered around. It was one of the reasons why Sam had left for Stanford in the first place, because Sam was sick of being dictated too, sick of not being heard and listened to, sick of being put down, belittled, like his opinions didn't matter, like _he_ didn't matter.

Dean had always sworn that he would always have an _open_ relationship with his brother. He wouldn't use brute force or strength of will to bully Sam into complete obedience. He would listen to Sam – because most times the kid had a good point and his ideas could make the hunt better – they would have a _partnership_, the two of them on equal footing, become a _team_ and none of this do-as-I-say crap or it's-my-way-or-the-highway bullshit.

But somewhere along the way, Dean had forgotten that and now he found himself doing the exact same thing his father had; he found himself doing the one thing he'd sworn he'd never do – not to Sam, never to Sammy – and the realization of what he had become – of what he had _allowed_ himself – to do to Sam caused Dean to freeze in his tracks, unsure of his decisions now; unsure of when Dean had stopped being the big brother and had started to turn into his father; unsure of how to approach this situation now because …

Dean closed his eyes, his heart heavy with guilt as he tried to recall the exact moment he had stopped being a brother. If he could figure that out, maybe he could figure out how to proceed from here and to stop it from happening again, to become the big brother that Sammy _needed_ right now and not the emotionally, closed-off, cold-hearted bastard that he had been of late.

**DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW**

Sam sat huddled on the floor between his bed and the dressing table; back against the wall, knees drawn up to his chest, his head resting upon his knees, arms encircled around his legs, rocking as he let his darker emotions come crashing down over him.

Sam sobbed bitterly into his knees, shaking violently as he tightened his arms encircling his legs, trying to fold in on himself, the sounds of his cries being muffled by his own body as he lost himself in his emotions.

He couldn't keep _doing_ this. He couldn't keep disappointing his older brother by making these stupid mistakes because it hurt so damn much to see how much damage and pain he had caused to his older brother because of his actions.

Although, Sam couldn't say that he regretted releasing the Darkness, because if he hadn't done that, then Dean would have been lost to him forever, still corrupted and possessed by the Mark of Cain. But he did regret what had happened and what had occurred because of that choice.

Charlie had _died_ because of that choice and now Dean … the only person Sam had left in his miserable life who still cared enough to hold onto him, was now _done_ with Sam.

And really, Sam couldn't blame him for that. After all, Sam was tired of making mistakes too. Sam was sick of continually screwing up, even when he was trying to do the right thing; even when he was trying to save the people he loved.

Sam couldn't even regret the choice he'd made to do the spell, because if it had worked, then Dean would have gotten the life and the little brother that he deserved. But once again, Sam had screwed that up. His one chance to make Dean's life perfect and Sam … he'd fucked it up, becoming tricked and trapped, causing his beloved older brother more pain, heartache and grief.

And now because of that, Sam had pushed Dean beyond his limits and Dean had finally had enough and was giving up on Sam, on _them_. One more mistake and Sam was out on his own. And Sam was okay with that. He was. He would come to terms with that and he would deal with it, honouring his brother's wishes because it was what he deserved.

But – right now – it just hurt so damn much to know that the brother he'd always relied upon, the brother who had always been there for him, been through everything with him, would finally be out of his life forever.

Sam had never truly believed that it would ever come to this. They had chosen each other over almost everything and everyone that had come into their lives, any obstacles that had stood in their way, they had always defeated it together. But now Sam had stuffed that up. Had pushed too hard, had made one to many mistakes and Dean had finally had enough.

Sam was actually surprised that it had taken this long for his older brother to reach the end of his rope. Sam just hoped that once he was gone, Dean could finally be happy and would be able to live in peace.

Sam chuckled bitterly. Of _course,_ Dean would be happy and be able to find peace once Sam left because Dean would no longer have the curse of the Winchester family to hold him down any longer. Once Sam was gone from Dean's life, all of his bad luck would melt away because Sam had _always_ been the bad curse of his family. His birth, his very existence had determined that the Winchester family would _always_ be filled with despair, misery, pain and bad luck.

After all, it was because Sam was _alive_ that they had lost everyone who had meant something to them throughout their lives. Their mother was dead because of him; Dad, Charlie, Jo and Ellen, Kevin and Bobby … Jess was dead because she'd dared to fall in love with some like Sam Winchester; Maddison had succumbed to the werewolf curse; and Ruby …

Sam swallowed hard, desperately wanting to take that pain away, to numb it, to _drink_ it into oblivion, but Sam resisted that urge. Becoming drunk with his pain and guilt was what had allowed Gabriel to trick him in the first place. There was no way Sam was repeating _that_ mistake anytime soon.

Once Dean was safe, Sam might allow himself to drown his grief and hurt with alcohol, but until then … Sam had work to do … well, once these damn stupid girly tears stopped slipping down his face and the shaking subsided and the raw emotions dissipated once more.

Until then, Sam would continue to fall and drown within the dark emotions that surrounded him at the moment, giving into all of the grief, pain, regret and remorse until he had the strength to bottle it all back up and get back to what he did best … fixing the mistake he had made.

**SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW**

Dean stood outside Sam's bedroom door, eyes closed, riffling through his memories, trying to pinpoint exactly when Dean had stopped acting like a big brother.

When Sam returned from Hell soulless, did it start then?

No. Dean could recall still encouraging Sam to _talk_ during that time, especially when he knew that there was something not quite right with his little brother.

Dealing with the Mother of All – Eve – and Sam's returned soul, not to mention the disagreements with the Campbells and especially their Grandfather; even learning about Castiel's betrayal and how he planned to open the gates of Purgatory and breaking the wall in Sam's head Death had constructed so Sam wouldn't remember his time in Hell, to keep them all distracted.

Even then, through all of that, Dean had encouraged Sam to _talk_.

The loss of Cas, realizing that Sam was suffering from hallucinations, the fight with the Leviathans and specifically Dick Roman, loosing Bobby, only to realize that Bobby was still with them as a ghost; finding out that Cas wasn't as dead as they thought, almost losing Sam to his damn hallucinations before Castiel took Sam's craziness onto himself.

Even then, Dean still encouraged Sam to _talk_. Although, Dean had started to feel fractured, was starting to lose hope – especially when Bobby had died – and had to take on more responsibility when Sam's hallucinations became really bad.

It wasn't until Dean returned from Purgatory and learned that Sam hadn't even bothered to look for him, learning that Crowley had taken Kevin and Sam hadn't even bothered to _search_ for Kevin. He had just dropped out of hunting and settled down with a girl and a _dog_ for his shot at normal. That was when Dean had felt the sudden shift within himself.

If Sam hadn't cared enough to have even _looked_ for Dean, then why the hell had Dean fought so hard to get back from Purgatory?

Realizing that Sam had just _left_ him, caused Dean to shatter and _that_ was when Dean stopped being the big brother. That was when Dean had stopped encouraging Sam to _talk_. That was the moment Dean had stopped caring.

Recalling, not only Gabriel's cryptic jabs during that time in the brothers lives, as well as the look of deep hurt within his younger brother's hazel eyes when ever Dean had jumped to the conclusion that Sam had given up and not even bothered to look for him, Dean had _sensed_ that there was more to the story of "hit a dog, met a girl and settled for normal" but he was so hurt, raw and … _broken_, that he had ignored years of older brother instinct, too tired to encourage Sam to _talk_ because he'd suddenly decided that he no longer wanted to listen to anything Sam had to say.

Things had gotten better between them after that, but that was the moment when Dean stopped listening and Sam stopped talking. That was the moment when misunderstandings had started to come between the two brothers.

Dean could now easily recall how jumpy and skittish his brother had been the first few weeks after he'd returned from Purgatory; the way Sam had shied away from everyone – even him – large, puppy-dog eyes filled with fear, the continual nightmares, Sam's loss of appetite, the look of absolute horror and panic when confronted with a particular bloody crime or whenever vampires were mentioned, but Dean had ignored all of those signs, so lost in his own hurt that he had failed to see that Sam was hurting too.

What the hell had happed to Sam while Dean was in Purgatory? What was the _real_ reason Sam had dropped off the radar and given up hunting? Dean silently vowed to find out the answers to his questions.

But not now. For now, Dean had a different crisis at hand. He had to stop enforcing his will upon his younger brother and he had to _listen_. He had to bring back the devoted, encouraging, patient older brother that he had been and he had to start encouraging Sam to _talk_ again.

If he didn't, then he feared that he would lose Sam forever and nothing Dean did would ever bring Sam back from that dark, deep abyss and he'd be lost to Dean forever.

**DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW**

Finally, after what felt like forever, Sam's tremors began to ease, his guttural pain-induced sobs were slowing and the tears had stopped falling down Sam's checks.

And it was only then, that Sam noticed he was being held, _rocked_, the low, deep, soothing timbre of his big brother's voice reverberating through Sam like a warm blanket would chase away the cold. And for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, Sam felt _safe_.

No more sadness, no more grief, no more pain. Wrapped up in his big brother's embrace, Dean was able to chase those feelings away, making Sam feel more normal than he had in a long time.

Sam didn't know what it was, but something about his big brother's presence always seemed to calm Sam down, and nothing made him feel safer than being held in Dean Winchester's arms.

Even though Sam had outgrown Dean's hugs when he was a teenager, striving for his own independence, there were times when Dean would cradle his brother in his arms – much like he had done when Sam was a child – especially if Sam woke up from a nasty nightmare or he was in the beginning stages of a panic attack or when he was extremely hurt and Dean feared for his life.

Now, Sam was content with the odd touch, pat on the back, squeeze to the back of his neck and very rarely – almost in Death's grip or just returned from Hell or Purgatory – hugs to keep him grounded, to comfort him and to make him feel safe.

So, the fact that Sam was wrapped up in his big brother's arms and Dean was rocking him … kind of confused and worried the younger Winchester. No one was dying – as far as he knew. At least, not yet – so, what in the hell would have caused his usually stoic, no chick-flicks older brother, who hated _any_ conversations to do with emotions, to have come into his room, to have sat beside him, held Sam in his arms, rocking him while Dean hummed a … Metallica tune?

What on earth was going on here? They were still in the correct universe, right?

"Uh … Dean?" Sam's voice came out squeaky and raw, almost as if he had screamed himself hoarse.

Dean's humming and rocking immediately stopped. "Sammy?" Dean pulled back a little to look at his little brother carefully, his worried expression relaxing instantly when he got a good look at Sam's expression. "You okay now little brother?" he asked seriously.

"Uh … yeah? Why – why are you _rocking_ me and humming Metallica?"

Dean chuckled softly, pulling back a little more, but still keeping one arm around his brother's shoulders as he leaned back against the wall, a faint blush appearing upon his checks.

"Yeah, sorry about that." Dean muttered, running an awkward hand through his hair. "But when I got in here, nothing I said or did would calm you down and you were heading on a one-way trip to hyperventilating, buddy."

Sam could see the darkening worry within the depths of his big brother's eyes and he suddenly understood just how much he had scared his cocky, badass, demon fighting big brother.

The rest of Sam's unease and pent up frustration – not to mention embarrassment – at being held in his older brother's arms like he was five-years old and had just woken up from a nightmare, needing to be soothed by his brother because nothing in the world had ever made Sam feel more safe and more loved than being in his beloved older brother's arms; melted away, his expression softening in apology for having worried Dean so much.

"So, I sat beside you – which seemed to settle you a little – and then I put my arm around your shoulders – which relaxed you even more – but it wasn't until I started humming Metallica while holding you … that's when you _really_ started to calm down."

Dean's eyes scrutinized Sam's still slightly pale face, searching for anything amiss or out of the ordinary. "Are you sure you're okay now Sammy?" he asked, raised eyebrows letting Sam know that he better not even _think_ about lying to Dean right now.

"Yeah Dean, I'm fine," Sam nodded.

Dean stared at Sam hard for several long seconds before he nodded, satisfied that Sam was being straight with him. "Do you want to tell me what happened? Why I found you almost passed out from lack of oxygen because you suddenly forgot to breathe? Or why you were dangerously close to a panic attack?"

Sam shifted uncomfortably, his checks burning in shame now because how in the world did he explain this to Dean in a way that didn't make him sound like an emotional girl?

"I guess I … kind of over reacted." Sam muttered, hoping that his anti-emotional brother would drop this. It was kind of ironic that Sam was the one that didn't want to talk about emotions and Dean … well, judging by the look upon his big brother's face, he wasn't about to let this go.

Sam sighed loudly, and turned to the one weapon in his arsenal that he knew could sway his strong willed, stubborn older brother; the wounded puppy-dog look. "Look Dean, I'm sorry about all of this, but can't we just chalk this up to your little brother having an emotional breakdown and leave it at that?"

Dean's features softened under his little brother's persuasive, large pleading eyes. "So, what you're trying to tell me is that you had a _girl_ moment?" Dean couldn't help but tease, his grin widening when Sam smiled as well.

"Yeah, I can live with that." Sam agreed, relaxing now because if Dean was teasing him, it meant that Dean wasn't as angry with him as Sam feared. Teasing Sam was one of the ways Dean let Sam know that he loved him and Sam instantly felt the rest of his tension leave him at that knowledge.

**SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW**

Dean knew when to push his kid brother for more information and when to back off and leave it alone, confident that he'd gotten his point across to Sam successfully.

And, although Dean _knew_ Sam wanted to drop the matter completely, Dean feared that he had let the matter drop too many times during the past few years which had helped in causing the dissymmetry that now existed between them.

In order to become the big brother he had been in the past, Dean knew that he would have to push this issue. As much as Sam resisted and didn't want to discuss it, Dean knew he had to get to the bottom of the true issue here or else there would be a repeat of what had happened the previous night.

Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly, wondering how best to approach this sensitive topic. Dean wasn't known for his heart to heart talks, nor was he the most subtle person in the world when discussing a sensitive topic; but this was Sam. And Dean had always known how to deal with Sam, no matter which facet of Sam Dean was dealing with.

"Sorry Sammy, but I can't live with that." Dean's soft, but firm tone informed his brother, seeing the exact moment when the meaning of that comment became crystal clear to his big-brained little brother.

"Come on Dean," Sam pleaded in a last-ditch effort to stop his older brother from pursing this subject and to just let it go, to let it stay buried with all of the other crap they had buried over the years.

"Not this time kiddo," Dean stated stubbornly, even as his voice remained low and soft. "I can't let it go this time Sam. We have to talk about it. You need to vent and I need to understand so that what happened last night doesn't happen again."

"What happened last night Dean, was that I got totally shit-faced drunk and made a bad decision." Sam retorted in defensive anger. "I let my damn emotions get the better of me and I fucked up. It's as simple as that Dean, I fucked up." Sam's voice shook at the last statement and Dean raised his eyebrows both in surprise and questioningly.

The amount of hurt and despair Dean could hear beneath his little brother's anger surprised Dean. And even though Dean knew that Sam was trying to avoid the issue by causing Dean to become angry himself, Dean decided he would not give his brother the satisfaction of becoming angry and storming out of here before he got to the bottom of things.

No. This time Dean was going to remain calm.

"I'm not talking about last night Sam," Dean replied, a hard edge beginning to creep into his tone because, yeah, his brother was starting to piss him off, but Dean was trying extremely hard _not_ to give into the impulsive anger that was bubbling just beneath the surface. Only Sam could manage to provoke Dean to such a degree that Dean's volatile, explosive anger would come bursting through to the surface.

Dean steadied his breaths, staring into Sam's brash, hot, anger filled hazel eyes as calmly as he could. "Although, we _will_ talk about that later," Dean added in his best parental-no-argument tone. "But, for now, I want to know the reason why you completely did a one-eighty in the kitchen and why I found you in your room not more than ten minutes later, hyperventilating, bordering on one hell of a major panic attack."

Sam opened his mouth, blinking in confusion. He had expected his big brother to retaliate with anger, but the swift change in topic and the underlining worry and concern he could hear within Dean's voice, stumped Sam momentarily, his mind scrambling to catch up even as his defensive anger disappeared as quickly as it had surfaced.

"And don't tell me that you're fine, or it was nothing," Dean warned, his green eyes deadly serious as he held his little brother's gaze. "Because what I walked into just now … it's pretty damn obvious that you are as far from fine as someone can be. So, let's cut the crap and how bout you tell me _exactly_ what happened for you to have reacted like this."

For several long seconds the two brothers did nothing but look at each other, a silent battle of wills waging between them as neither man seemed prepared to back down.

With an inward sigh, Sam knew that he had lost this battle. It was clear by the look upon his older brother's face that Dean wasn't about to back down this time and he wasn't leaving until he got an answer from Sam.

Sam was exhausted – both physically from the hangover and mentally over the events that had transpired over the last twenty-four hours – he wasn't in any state to wage a battle of wills with his older brother.

"I don't know what to tell you Dean," Sam's eyes lowered in defeat before he met the steady gaze of green eyes once more. "I already told you that I over reacted."

"Over reacted to _what_ Sam?" Dean persisted, his tone hard, even as his expression softened at his little brother's obvious embarrassment. "Just tell me Sam. I promise not to make fun of you." Dean added in a light, teasing way.

Sam chewed on his bottom lip, searching Dean's expression for sincerity and honesty before he reluctantly nodded and gave into his older brother's request.

"When you said you couldn't go through this again, I … panicked. I didn't think there would ever be a time when I would ever push you to the point where you'd finally had enough and you were done with me."

Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to get control over his seesawing emotions, blinking back the ever-present tears that threatened to fall, trying to keep his voice steady and calm.

"I get it Dean," Sam said softly, nothing but understanding and love within his hazel eyes. "I understand. And no one else would have put up with all of my mistakes over the years and still stuck by me. You are one hell of big brother Dean." Sam grinned proudly before he rushed on to finish his thoughts before his emotions overtook him once more.

"I'll _try_ not to stuff up anymore, but me and failing … we both know that my track record of making mistakes is not great, and no doubt I will make other mistakes in the future. I only hope I can clean up my mess before I screw up and you kick me out. But I promise to try hard not to make any more mistakes Dean.

And if I do manage to screw it up before the Darkness is defeated … then, just know that even when I'm out of here and your life, that I won't stop trying to defeat the Darkness. No matter what it takes, I will fix the error I made when I released the Darkness in the first place."

Dean stared at his brother in shocked silence for a few seconds as he tried to process everything Sam had just told him. "You think I'm kicking you out Sammy?" he asked incredulously. "You think after _everything_ the two of us have been through together that I could ever be _done_ with you? Do you honestly think after _years_ of looking out for you and taking care of my pain-in-the-ass little brother, that I could ever give up on you or kick you out of the only home that we've ever known?"

Dean paused to watch his little brother's eyes get wider and more shadowed with every question that Dean posed to him. "Do you seriously think that I am such a cold-hearted bastard that I would kick you out because you made a _mistake_?"

"What?" Sam gasped, his face draining of all colour. "No Dean, of course not." He denied loudly. "It's not _you_ Dean. It wouldn't be _your_ fault. You have done _everything_ for me for my entire life; given me so much, given up your own childhood to raise me. And all I have given you, and all I keep giving you, is nothing but chaos, grief, betrayal and making stupid mistakes over and over again while you have to swoop in and save the day, save me and clean up _my_ mess on top of everything else.

Dean, you have given me _everything_. And all I have given you is pain and misery. So, yeah, I would totally understand if I'd finally pushed you beyond your limit and you were done with me. There are days when I can hardly stand to be around myself either." Sam chuckled bitterly, darkly.

"How could I expect you to stay Dean?" Sam's smile trembled upon his lips, desperately trying to find the right words to absolve his big brother of any and all sins … even if that meant Dean had to kick Sam out of his life forever.

Dean didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He wanted to both shake his brother until these ludicrous notions Sam had, disappeared, and he wanted to hold Sam close, reassure his stupidly, idiotic brother that all of these thoughts were unfounded, nonscience. And _if_ there was ever a time when Dean did, in fact, give up on his brother, that would mean there was something seriously wrong with him. He wouldn't be _Dean_ anymore.

Dean was troubled and touched by Sam's words. Troubled, because how could Sam think that Dean would give up so easily on the kid he'd raised? Touched, because Sam was _still_ the same good, kind hearted, sympathetic kid that Dean remembered; putting everyone else's feelings before his own; looking out for his big brother the only way he knew how.

Dean could feel his frustration give way to anger. He could so easily give into the hurt Sam's confession evoked in him. He could easily twist Sam's words around, becoming irritated and angry because Sam thought so little of him, because Sam thought Dean would abandon him because of one stupid mistake.

But as Dean sat there and thought about everything that had happened to them over the years, he realized that he couldn't blame Sam for thinking what he did; for feeling that Dean would turn on him and abandon him.

No. All of this fell squarely upon Dean's shoulders. His little brother's screwed up logic had only come about because Dean wasn't the big brother he had once been.

He had pushed Sam away countless times. He had become cold, indifferent, not caring about his little brother's emotional welfare, not wanting to _push_ because he was hurting, because Sam had left him, abandoned him for a life of normal … so why the hell should Dean give a rat's ass about _what_ Sam wanted or needed now?

Sam had always had a low self-opinion of himself. He had an uncanny ability to be able to blame himself for anything and everything that had gone wrong in the Winchester's lives – even when they'd been kids – it was always Sam's fault. Dean was never to blame for anything, ever and nothing could piss Dean off faster than when someone talked shit about his brother … even if that person was his brother himself.

Dean had tried to reason with the kid, had tried to talk sense into him, knowing that talking and words were something that Sam related to, but nothing Dean said managed to sway the young boy's mind. Sam _said_ that he understood, but Dean could tell that Sam didn't _believe_ any of it, not one positive word when it came to him.

So, Dean had tried another tactic. If Sam couldn't _hear_ the truth behind Dean's words, Dean would just have to _show_ his little brother how special and important he was in Dean's life.

That was when Dean had started to reassure his kid brother of his worth by words of encouragement and praise; as well as gentle, subtle touches, like a hand to the back of his neck, a pat or a squeeze of the shoulder, the ruffling of hair, the teasing bumping of shoulders, not to mention the calming and warning influence Dean's hand had upon Sam's chest.

These small touches of affection and love, combined with Dean's words of encouragement and praise had eventually been able to penetrate his younger brother's stubborn mind and break the shackles of self-doubt, guilt and hatred that his baby brother had harboured.

They were still there; Dean had no doubt about that. But when Dean _showed_ Sam how much Sam meant to him, Dean had noticed his baby brother's self-confidence begin to increase, his self-worth growing day by day, until, finally, Sam would say what he wanted without fearing that he wasn't good enough to voice his opinions. Hell, the kid had become so comfortable and confident with himself that he had eventually gone head to head with the old man.

Now, looking into those same hazel eyes that had flashed with anger whenever their Dad wouldn't listen or acknowledge his opinion, Dean realized they were as sad and defeated as they had been _years_ ago. And all of those years Dean had painstakingly raised his brother's self-confidence and self-worth to become the man who had defiantly left home in order to pursue his dream of going to college and living normal, was shredded into nothing.

When Dean looked into his brother's eyes now, they were flat, sad, accepting, apologetic, _dead_. Sam didn't care about himself or his dreams anymore. He didn't care if he lived or died. All he cared about was Dean; Dean's well-being, Dean's happiness.

All Sam worried about was _not_ disappointing or failing his big brother again. He didn't want to let Dean down again by making another mistake. All this kid wanted was some recognition to be worthy to Dean. He wanted Dean to protect him, love him and be the same over protective brother who would do _anything_ for his kid brother that he had been years ago.

But what this stupid kid failed to see was that Dean had never stopped caring about the brat. He would _always_ protect Sam and love him. He would _always_ be proud of Sam, no matter what Sam did or said in the future because Sam was Dean's kid and nothing that Sam did would ever truly make Dean walk out or leave Sam behind forever.

Sure, there had been times when Dean had become so frustrated with Sam's choices that he'd had to leave … but he'd always come back because nothing Sam did could ever make the older Winchester _hate_ his pain-in-the-ass little brother.

They were siblings, there were bound to be squabbles and disagreements from time to time, but there would _never_ be a time when Dean would intentionally turn his back on the kid or disown him or cut him out of his life forever. It wasn't _in_ Dean to give up on his kid; just like it wasn't _in_ Sam to ever place guilt at Dean's feet.

Dean had done one hell of a bang-up job in being a big brother, Dean snorted bitterly at that self-incriminating thought, knowing that his actions and lack of encouragement had reduced his baby brother's self-worth and self-confidence down to almost non-existent levels.

In between becoming a demon, being possessed by the Mark of Cain and his obsession to kill Abaddon, to kill Crowley, to kill the next big threat to the brothers lives, there hadn't been a lot of encouragement, praise or reassurance to be had by Dean to the youngest Winchester; so it was no wonder Sam's confidence levels were at zilch right now.

When all you got was constant anger, constantly told to go away, constantly rebuffed and ignored, it was no wonder Sam was on this damn self-sacrificing, self-destructive, suicidal path.

But Dean would put a stop to it right now. He couldn't fix everything in one night (he knew that) and it would take time to rebuild Sam's confidence and self-worth, but Dean _could_ set his brother straight on a couple of things right now. He could _start_ to restore his younger brother to his former glory.

Seeing his little brother completely broken was something that Dean swore never to see let happen again. He would _never_ become so obsessed with something ever again that he completely ignored or belittled the one person who meant everything to him.

"You wanted to know _why_ I worked myself up to the point of … of freaking out, and now you know." Sam's low, bitter, self-hatred tone, pulled Dean's thoughts back to the present. "I _told_ you I was over reacting." Sam tried to laugh, but it came out more like a sob than an actual laugh.

"Sammy," Dean whispered, tears gathering within his green eyes as he gripped Sam's shoulders in comfort, squeezing gently in apology for all of the hurt he had heaped upon his younger brother's shoulders lately all because he was too selfish to see what his actions were doing to his kid.


	6. Chapter 6

**Special thanks: ** to **Guest **for your review and kind words, and to everyone who has viewed, favourited or added this story to your alerts. Your support and encouragement mean a lot.

**Warnings:** No violence, but lots of angst and self-incrimination.

**Note:** Hope you all enjoy this chapter. If you have a moment, let me know what you think.

**CHAPTER SIX**

"I am so sorry kiddo," Dean rested his forehead against Sam's own forehead for a few seconds before he pulled back, emotions pulled into as much control as he could muster at the moment before he launched into the biggest chick-flick, brotherly scolding and sorting out issues of the Century.

"Right, you've had your say, now it's my turn, okay? You are going to sit still and not interrupt me until I've finished talking … do you understand? Because I am only going to say this once Sam. And if I have to repeat _any_ of this in the future … I will be kicking your butt … are we clear?"

Sam nodded, surprised at the amount of seriousness and determination he could see within his big brother's eyes.

Dean searched Sam's expression for a few seconds, nodding in satisfaction when he saw Sam's hazel eyes locking onto his own eyes, alert and prepared to listen. "Good. Now, let's get a couple of things straight _before_ we discuss what happened last night."

Sam winced slightly at Dean's promise for more lectures to come, not knowing if he was prepared mentally to broach that subject. Sam opened his mouth to object, but one warning look from his brother had Sam closing his mouth and inclining his head to acknowledge that he understood and wouldn't object to his brother's plans … for now.

Dean stifled the grin at Sam's look of wary, apprehensive, acceptance, followed closely by fierce stubbornness, letting Dean know that Sam would be willing to listen for now, but if Dean said something Sam didn't like or didn't want to discuss … there might be a fight on his hands.

This was the little brother Dean missed; the little brother that Dean vowed to get back, because Sam's stubbornness was a part of Sam, just like Dean's fierce loyalty and family devotion was a part of Dean.

"I want you to know, straight off the bat, that I will _never_ kick you out, disown you or want you out of my life, no matter what you may do in the future, and most definitely not because of a _mistake_ you made." Dean said, his voice strong, confident and sure.

"If we were to start taking our mistakes into account, then by all rights, I wouldn't even be able to gain visiting privileges to see you Sammy." Dean grinned, trying to lighten the mood a little by making a joke and was rewarded when he saw Sam's frown turn into a smile of his own.

"I have made plenty of mistakes too Sam, accepting the Mark of Cain without fully understanding what it would do to me, turn me into … is one of them." Dean's expression turned serious once more as he placed his hands on either side of Sam's face, keeping Sam's eyes trained on his eyes so that Sam could see the honesty and sincerity within his eyes. "I could _never_ be _done_ with you Sammy; do you understand me?"

Sam's eyes lowered briefly in confirmation before he met Dean's steady gaze once more.

"And nothing you have ever done or could do would ever make me turn on you or hate you. I _will not_ kick you out. I will never abandon you … are we clear little brother?"

Sam cocked his head to the side, frowning slightly in confusion and Dean could guess what his little brother was about to ask.

Dean held up a hand to stop Sam's question. "When I said I couldn't do this anymore … I didn't mean that I was giving up on you Sammy, giving up on us. I wasn't giving you an ultimatum to do what I say or else there would be consequences and I would kick you out on your ass."

Dean paused, licking his dry lips nervously because now Dean was at the point where he had to get into his _own_ feelings. If there was another way Dean could get through to his brother, he would, but he knew that in order for Sam to completely understand where Dean was coming from, then he would have to divulge into his own emotional turmoil.

"I had just watched you almost die in _two_ worlds Sammy, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do to stop it from happening. You were stuck in that other world, being tormented, tortured and betrayed by the people you trusted most in your life and it was _killing_ me that I couldn't be there with you to help you … to kick your damn ass for not listening to me."

Dean's lips twisted in an attempt at a smile, but his heart wasn't in it and it fell from his lips before it had even appeared. "I was _stuck here_ Sam, watching those events play out in that dark, twisted world, watching you become so overwhelmed with grief and guilt that you were willing to put a bullet in your brain in order to _save_ me while your body in this world was _dying_.

And no matter how many layers I put on you, your body continued to grow colder and colder, where it eventually gave way to fits … convulsions and I _knew_ there was nothing I could do to stop it."

Dean's hands dropped from Sam's face and fell limply into his lap, his eyes downcast as he fought to get control over his emotions, lost in those memories and the terror he had felt at not being able to protect and keep his brother safe; at not being able to provide the support and encouragement that Sam had needed in his time of crisis.

"You did _save_ me Dean," The quiet, grateful voice of his younger brother, as well as the hand Sam had placed upon Dean's shoulder, brought Dean out of those dark memories.

"You found a way into that crazy world and you stopped me. You saved me Dean. I'm right here." Sam reassured his older brother, his smile steady even when he felt Dean shaking beneath the hand he had rested upon his brother's shoulder.

Dean drew in a deep, shaky breath and let it out slowly, the hand upon his shoulder grounding him in the here and now, taking away the terror and anguish he felt as those memories and images had bombarded his mind.

"You saved me Dean," Sam repeated softly, but firmly. "Just like you always do, you saved me."

"You're damned right I saved you." Dean snored gruffly, stowing his emotions behind his wall of humour for now. "And I won't even scold you for talking before I had finished having my say." Dean smiled, his eyes twinkling mischievously, laughing when Sam shot him a full-blown bitch-face.

"So, now you understand _why_ I said what I did, right?" Dean asked, desperately hoping that Sam understood and that Dean wouldn't have to explain any further, wouldn't have to delve more deeply into his emotions than what he already had.

But judging by the puzzled, confused look upon the young man's face, Dean knew that he would have to explain further, would have to literally _spell_ it out, which meant … more emotional, touchy-feely emotions and feelings would come to the surface.

"Okay," Dean sighed, only barely managing _not_ to roll his eyes at the whole absurdity of this whole situation.

An image of Sam with a gun in his hands, considering using the gun to end his life, surfaced within Dean's mind. And just like that, Dean became serious once more, not worried or concerned about the massive chick-flick of emotions that was about to surface because of this discussion. Dean would do whatever it took in order to keep Sam safe. And if that meant Dean had to spill every damn emotion, he had in order to achieve that goal, then that's what he would do.

"I felt useless Sam. I couldn't get to you; I couldn't help you … I couldn't even stop your body from getting cold and I was … I was scared man."

Sam gasped at the horrific, pained look within the depths of his big brother's eyes. "Dean –" Sam began, wanting to comfort his older brother, but Dean gave him a slight shake of his head and Sam closed his mouth, waiting for Dean to continue.

"Feeling helpless and useless … it's not something I'm used to feeling. I'm a man of action. I don't sit, think or dwell, I act. So, the fact that I was stuck here, that I couldn't do anything to help you … it was the worst feeling in the world."

And I know that you're fine now, that you're safe. But that was too close for comfort, even for me." Dean declared, becoming more serious and sombre than Sam had seen in a long time.

"When I said that I couldn't do it anymore … I wasn't planning on kicking you out or being done with you forever … what I meant was, I couldn't watch you almost die again and me not being able to do something to stop it. I couldn't watch you continue on this suicidal path anymore and I had to try and stop it or else –"

Dean's expression crumbled into one of pure grief, his green eyes darker with pain. "I can't lose you Sammy," he whispered fearfully. "I can't. Not after everything. Not after …" Dean shook his head, a sad smile trembling at the corners of his lips. "If you _died_ Sammy, there wouldn't be anything left in this world for me. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yeah," Sam practically whispered, his eyes shining with unshed tears at the blatant honesty within his brother's eyes and the meaning of Dean's words became crystal clear; if Sam died, then Dean would follow shortly after.

Sam shivered at that morbid revelation because Sam never wanted for Dean to die, and certainly not because of him. But there it was in black and white. Dean was scared _for_ him, not of him. Dean was worried _about_ him, not his actions. Dean was … wait a minute, Dean thought he was _suicidal_?

Sam may have dwelt in some of the darker emotions at times where he thought Dean would be better off without him, feeling guilt and shame because of his past actions, his past mistakes … and maybe, on occasion, he would entertain the notion of getting out of Dean's life forever so that Dean could live a safe, happy, non-cursed life … but he had _never_ – and would _never_ – kill himself in order to achieve his goals, in order to set his brother free.

Sacrificing himself and killing himself were two completely different things. And Sam would have no problem in sacrificing himself so that his brother could live. But killing himself … Sam may have _thought_ about it on some of his darker, bad days – like when he was having hallucinations of Hell or Lucifer, for instance – but he would never deliberately, willingly kill himself.

How could he redeem and prove himself to his brother if he was _dead_? No. Sam needed to live. He needed to prove himself to his brother. He needed for Dean to trust him again. And the only way Sam could achieve that was if he was still alive.

"Dean," Sam squeezed Dean's shoulder in understanding and comfort. "I'm sorry I jumped to the wrong conclusions and … freaked out on you," Sam felt his checks heat up in embarrassment at the way he had broken down like some hormonally charged teenager. "But you've got to understand something here dude, I am not suicidal."

"Oh really?" Dean challenged; his eyebrows raised in disbelief. "You had a gun pointed to your head Sam." Dean raised his hand in an imitation of a gun, pointing it at his temple.

Sam rolled his eyes at his big brother's theatrics and sighed in fond exasperation. "I never actually pointed the gun to my head Dean." He stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Maybe you didn't," Dean grudgingly conceded. "But you can't deny that you _thought_ about doing it." He accused, his green eyes challenging Sam to argue with that fact.

"When I was in that world Dean, it was like … I was in a kind of hypnosis. But when it came to the crunch, I couldn't put the gun to my head and pull the trigger. I couldn't do it Dean. I would _never_ do something like that. I promise."

Dean could see the sincerity and honesty within those large puppy-dog hazel eyes, Dean had grown up with and knew his kid was telling the truth. But the fear of Sam doing something like that again, of Dean not being able to stop or prevent it the next time around, filled Dean with horror and dread.

"Well, okay, maybe you're not suicidal." Dean reluctantly acknowledged. "But you are definitely on some kind of self-destructive cycle here bro, because the way you just jumped into performing that spell-curse without any thought on the consequences of your actions … dude, that's something _I_ would do, not what _you_ would do."

"Maybe," Sam admitted. "But I was drunk. And I was drowning in my darker emotions, everything from the past hitting me all at once." Sam paused thoughtfully. "I guess my common sense took a back seat for a while and I just _acted_ instead of thinking it through."

Sam shrugged dismissively, offering Dean a smile of repentance, hoping that would be the end of this conversation and inquisition because Sam didn't want to embarrass himself anymore in front of his brother than what he already had.

Dean grunted, not entirely satisfied with Sam's answer – because it sounded more like an excuse to him than an actual reason – but knew that was the best answer he was going to get … unless he decided to push Sam some more.

"So, are we good now?" Sam asked, attempting to rise to his feet before Dean gripped Sam's wrists tightly in warning for him to stay where he was.

"Huh? What? Dean?" The younger Winchester's expression screwed up in concern when he noticed the strange look upon his older brother's face.

"Sammy … just, why did you do it man?"'

"Do what Dean?"

"Why did you decided to do the spell-curse in the first place? And don't tell me it was because you were drunk." Dean warned, seeing Sam's mouth open and close again without offering up any kind of explanation.

"What could be so bad that you would want to change … alter our lives in such a drastic way?" Dean carefully scrutinized his brother's expression closely, hoping he could find the answer to the question within the depths of his brother's eyes.

"Was it … was it because I almost killed you? Is that why you wanted to change everything? Because of me?" Dean finally asked the question he'd been too scared to ask before.

But if he wanted honesty from Sam, then he had to be honest with not only himself, but with Sam to. And that was Dean's biggest fear right there; that Sam had wanted to escape and change their present lives because Dean had decided that killing his own brother was the only way to keep the world safe.

Dean shuddered violently. He had come too close to actually succeeding with killing his brother this time. If Dean hadn't snapped out of it … Sam would be dead right now. And Dean … well, he would have killed himself because there was no way Dean would have been able to live with the knowledge that he had taken his baby brother's life.

"What?!" Sam hissed in surprise. "You think I …" Sam swallowed hard, his shock giving way to anger now because that was so typical of Dean. Sam had made the mistake, but yet Dean was blaming _himself_ for what Sam had done.

Sam wanted to yell and scream at his older brother's stupidity and how not everything Sam did was a reflection on Dean or … except it _was_ a reflection on Dean, Sam suddenly realized. Dean had raised Sam. So, Sam's actions could be attributed to how Dean had brought Sam up.

Except, it was bullshit! Sam was his own person for goodness sakes. And his actions should have no reflection on Dean's character in any way, shape or form.

Dean had just been a kid himself. He should never have been held responsible or accountable for Sam's well-being. That should have been Dad's role, not Dean's.

Sam's fists clenched at his sides at the unfairness of it all. Why the hell would Dean have to suffer because of Sam's mistakes? It wasn't right for Dean to feel guilt over the actions that Sam had chosen to take. He was his own man and –

"Dean, no." Sam denied loudly. "None of this – what I did – was your fault, okay?"

"Then _why_ Sam?" Dean's voice cracked, the hurt and pain easy to see within his brother's eyes. "Why did you do this? Why did you want to change our lives?"

Sam sighed loudly, his irrational anger leaving him in the face of his older brother's distraught and anguished expression. "Because I wanted to make a better life for _you_." Sam replied simply and honestly. "I knew that I had screwed up again. I had released the Darkness; I betrayed your trust … again. And the fact that you would rather _lock_ yourself in your room rather than spend any time with me …"

Sam shrugged sadly. "I just wanted to make it better for you Dean. You deserve to have the best life you can have, and you deserve to have a little brother who doesn't always keep betraying you, hurting you."

Sam lowered his head in shame. "I thought that if I could change just _one_ thing in my life, then I wouldn't walk down the road I did. I wouldn't have fallen for Ruby's act; I wouldn't have become addicted to demon blood; you wouldn't have had to sell your soul for me or gone to Hell.

I just … I thought I could make it _better_ for _you_ Dean. I just wanted you to have the live you've always deserved and a little brother who didn't screw up all of the time."

Dean looked down at his brother's bowed head, blinking in confusion at Sam's softly spoken confession, because didn't this damn fool kid get it?! Dean was perfectly happy with the little brother he had. Sam had been the only light in Dean's life, the only person who provided his life with joy and hope, Sam was his only reason to go on.

If Sam changed any aspect of _who_ he was, then he wouldn't be _Sam_ anymore … at least, not _his_ Sam. Dean wouldn't change _anything_ about his brother, even if that meant he had never gone to Hell or Purgatory. His little brother – mistakes and all – was perfect just the way he was. And Dean wouldn't have it any other way.

"Oh Sammy," Dean murmured, both touched and horrified that his little brother had decided to do this spell-curse for him. "Silly boy," Dean chided softly, chuckling with no real amusement as he ruffled Sam's hair affectionately. "If you had only _asked_ me, I would have told you that I'm happy with my life the way it is, and we could have avoided this whole fiasco."

"Happy?!" Sam raised his head, eyes shooting wide open in an obvious display of disbelief and scepticism. "Come on Dean, you haven't been happy in _years_. Not since you got back from Purgatory and realized that I had left you to rot there for that whole year." Sam scoffed in self-hatred and bitterness. "And the only reason you felt that way was because _I_ betrayed you by not looking for you. _I_ settled for normal while you were in Purgatory fighting to escape that place.

And for what Dean? What exactly did you have to look forward to when you got out of that place? An ungrateful little brother who betrayed you once again, that's what. Oh, and let's not forget that you had to sacrifice the only being who had the balls to help you out and kept you alive, helped you to get out, because your awesome little brother got stuck in yet another predicament and you had to save me, yet again."

Benny.

Dean still missed his vampire friend, even to this day. But if it was a choice between Benny and Sam, then there was no contest. Sam would win every time, regardless of all of the squabbles the brothers had gotten into over the years.

"Sam, sacrificing Benny to save you was _my_ choice … _his_ choice. It wasn't your fault at all." Dean tried to reason with his emotional sibling, the jealousy he could hear within Sam's tone not going unnoticed. Even after all of these years, Sam was still jealous of the bond Dean had formed with the vampire from Purgatory.

Sam shot his brother a scathing look before he lowered his eyes becoming closed off and distant once more. And Dean got the distinct feeling that he was missing something here. There was something _more_ than Sam's jealousy of the vampire Dean had befriended.

Dean was sure that he could detect hurt and resentment within his younger brother's eyes and a … sad acceptance. It was as if Sam was holding back something; something that he knew would hurt Dean if Dean ever found out about it.

Had Benny done something to Sam that Dean was unaware of? Had Benny _threatened_ Sam or tried to hurt him or –

"I'm sorry Dean," Sam apologized, all of his brash anger vanishing in an instant and leaving only sad regret. "I shouldn't have brought … _Benny_ into this." He said through clenched teeth. "I know what a big deal it was for you to sacrifice him for me." Sam raised his eyes to meet Dean's.

"But, don't you _see_? None of that would have happened if _I_ hadn't of walked down the path Yellow-eyes had laid out for me all of those years ago. That's why I changed it. That's why I wanted to change _me_; so that you wouldn't have gone through all of this sorrow and heartache because of me. I only wanted you happy Dean. I only wanted you to have the life you deserve."

Dean looked down upon wide, pleading, sorrowful eyes and his expression softened as he smiled gently. "Sammy, the only thing I have ever wanted in this life to be happy is to have _you_ by my side. And not some _changed_ version of you either. You are _my_ little brother and I … I love you just the way you are."

Sam's eyes widened even more at Dean's declaration, seeing the truth of his brother's words both in his tone and his eyes.

"Do you understand now Sam? Do you finally get what I'm telling you Geek-boy?"

Sam nodded slowly, stunned into speechlessness. "Yeah, but –"

"No "buts" Sammy," Dean interjected, squeezing the back of Sam's neck in a gesture of love and affection. "I want _you_ Sam … even with all of your mistakes." Dean grinned teasingly. "I will have you as you are Sam … warts and all."

Sam burst out into surprised laughter at Dean's cheesy chick-flick line, his heart filled with gratefulness and love. Dean accepted him. Even though he had made numerous mistakes in the past and had done nothing but cause his older brother nothing but heartache and grief … Dean accepted him as he was.

And that knowledge, that belief, did more to build Sam's confidence than Sam realized because with that knowledge came a flare of hope. Hope and contentment, because … Dean was back.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Sam finally had his big brother back.

**DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW**

"So, are you good now little brother?" Dean asked as he helped his brother to his feet. "No more running off half-cocked, full of alcohol and doing impulsive spell-curses that endanger both of our lives, all right? Because, that's_ my_ job. Your job is to be the rational, clear-headed, logical brother who gets me _out_ of trouble." Dean winked at Sam, his smile growing broader at the dimpled smile Sam gave him.

"No more drunken escapades Dean, I promise." Sam held a hand over his heart in a solemn oath.

"Good." Dean nodded in satisfaction before he pulled a surprised Sam in for a hug. "Because I can't lose you kiddo. And this was far too close for comfort for my liking." Dean added, his tone dropping in sincerity, with a touch of undisguised fear.

"I know Dean, and I'm sorry." Sam acknowledged, squeezing a little tighter to emphasise the truth behind his words. "It won't happen again."

"That's good to hear." Dean clapped Sam on the back before he released Sam, pulling back from the hug. "Do you remember everything that happened in that other world Sam? With that wannabe Bobby and when Dad showed up?"

Sam hesitated for a split second before he nodded, wondering just where in the hell his brother was going with this.

"I want you to know that I meant every word I said in there." Dean said, his tone firm and sure. "When I said that we should let the past stay in the past … I meant that. I would like for us to _do_ that. To forget about everything we've done, every bad decision we've made … let's wipe the slate clean and start over?"

"Do you really think you can do that Dean?" Sam blinked in astonishment. "Because some of my past decisions have been _really bad_. Can you honestly say that you can move on from that? Leave it all behind and start over as if nothing ever happened?"

"Yes Sam, I can." Dean replied confidently, not even hesitating for a split second.

"Yeah, well, I can't." Sam admitted softly, bitting upon his bottom lip, worry lining his features. "And before you ask, it's not you Dean." Sam hurried on to explain before his brother got the wrong idea.

"As far as I'm concerned, you have done nothing wrong and whatever mistakes you've made, you did them for me; in order to protect or save me. I forgave you for all of that years ago.

And even now … you can't hold yourself accountable for your actions Dean, because you weren't exactly _you_. But, as for me … I've done _a lot_ of bad Dean. I don't know if I can ever truly forgive myself for any of that."

Dean opened his mouth to argue with his brother's assessment of Dean's mistakes versus his own mistakes, but he closed his mouth just as quickly when he realized that Sam's biggest obstacle wasn't for Dean to forgive Sam, but it was for Sam to forgive himself.

And Dean knew that mere words wouldn't help his younger brother to achieve that. Dean, once more, had to build up the kid's self-confidence and self-worth to the point where Sam could eventually _live_ with the choices he had made without feeling so guilty that it destroyed him emotionally.

But still, Dean couldn't help but utter the words: "_I_ forgive you Sam," absolving his little brother of past mistakes and grievances which had plagued the brothers lives and had almost destroyed the brothers' bond forever.

Sam's eyes widened in surprise at Dean's words before they softened with gratitude and warmth. "Thanks Dean, that means a lot. But I still can't …"

"Okay, how about baby steps then?" Dean interrupted, not wanting to see his younger brother in anymore pain than he already was in.

Sam raised his eyebrows quizzically at Dean's suggestion, silently urging him to go on.

"How about we forgive ourselves and each other for the whole apocalypse-demon-blood-Ruby thing?"

Sam's eyes widened even more at that. "That was the first time I blatantly betrayed you Dean. _Can you_ forgive me for that? For trusting a _demon_ over my own flesh and blood brother?"

Dean winced at Sam's words, recognizing them for what they really were. These were the words Dean had spat at Sam scathingly, belittling him and telling Sam that he could no longer be trusted.

"Sammy," Dean murmured mournfully, not realizing that his own worlds would haunt his baby brother for years to come. "Yes Sammy, I can." Dean stated with conviction. "Both of us were _played_ Sam. As far as I'm concerned, there's nothing to forgive, okay Sammy? Let's at least leave that part of our lives in the past."

Sam hesitated, searching his older brother's expression carefully, looking for doubt, lies or any sort of hesitancy. But all Sam saw was truth, devotion and love. Dean meant what he said. He could leave that in the past and move on.

But … Sam couldn't. Not yet. Not until he'd come clean to Dean about the phone message and how big of a role it had played in Sam's ultimate decision to kill Lilith and unknowingly, unlocking the Final Seal, dooming all of humanity and the entire world to ruination and damnation, bringing about the promised apocalypse.

Dean watched all of the different emotions cross Sam's features, seeing the internal struggle that was going on inside of his brother. "What is it Sam?" Dean inquired softly, instinctively knowing that there was something holding his brother back, something was stopping his baby brother from committing.

"There's … something that I have to tell you." Sam muttered, feeling extremely nervous as his hand automatically fell upon his cell phone he had placed within his front pocket.

"Sammy, you don't have to dude. Whatever it is, it's over now and –" Dean tried to vindicate his younger brother, but Sam shook his head violently from side to side.

"No Dean, I have to tell you. If I want to move on from that, then I have to tell you." Sam said in fierce determination.

"Okay Sam," Dean relented. "You can tell me. But whatever it is, it won't make any difference to me, okay? Whatever big secret you think you've been hiding from me; it won't make me change my mind. I'll still forgive you, no matter what."

Sam certainly hoped that was true. He hoped that Dean would understand and wouldn't condemn him for what he was about to reveal. Sam wished he could forget it. He wished he could push it to the past and move on, but a deal was a deal, so …

Hands shaking so badly he could feel Dean's eyes boring into him, Sam removed his cell phone from his pocket and held it up for Dean to see, noticing his big brother's look of confusion and puzzlement before Sam took in a deep breath, steadying his breath, holding it for a few seconds before releasing it.

"I never told you this, but at one point, before I killed Lilith and released Lucifer from his cage, I seriously began to doubt what I was about to do and had serious reservations about completing the task of killing Lilith." Sam began in a low, regretful tone of voice, shame colouring his every word as he kept eye contact with his older brother.

"You … what?" Dean demanded, stunned at that revelation.

"I had just left you bleeding, barely conscious in that motel room and what Ruby was asking me to do in order to be able to kill Lilith … well, let's just say I was having a crisis of conscience." Sam chuckled bitterly. "God, I was so naive back then. I can't believe I fell for her lies; her every action and words poisoning me, dragging me deeper into her web of lies until …"

Sam looked up and Dean was shocked to see tears shimmering within his brother's eyes, Sam's bottom lip trembling violently in an effort to contain his rising grief and remorse.

"I'm so sorry Dean. I should have _listened_ to you. I should have _believed_ you, believed in _us_, but … I thought I was doing the right thing. I truly believed, with every fibre of my being, that what I was doing was _right_."

"I know you did Sammy," Dean said gently, trying to ease some of Sam's guilt and suffering. "I mean, who would have thought that getting rid of that demon bitch Lilith would have been a _bad_ thing? Like I said bro, both of us were _played_ by both the demons _and_ the angels."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Sam snorted ruefully, running a hand up and down his face to regain his composure. "But that night, I was having second thoughts about proceeding with the plan to kill Lilith. I kept thinking about what you said, and then what Ruby expected me to do in order to kill Lilith, it seemed … _wrong_.

Something in me was warning me, screaming at me _not_ to do this. I mean, the fact that I had left you in a bloody mess and had willingly walked away with a _demon_ … that should have been a big warning sign right there." Sam sighed, his shoulders sagging in defeat and misery, his hazel eyes beginning to mist over in tears once more.

"It's okay Sammy," Dean reassured his sibling, the events of that night remained cemented in his mind and heart because that was the first time Dean had given up on his brother.

If Bobby hadn't intervened and given Dean a good kick up the ass, snapping him out of his self-induced-oh-whoa-is-me, depressive state, the brothers story could have ended a whole different way.

If Dean hadn't reached out to Sam, then maybe the apocalypse both angels and demons were determined to put into motion, might have actually happened. Dean shuddered at the thought of being occupied by the archangel Michael, being forced to watch as he slaughtered his own brother with his own hands.

"But as usual, I didn't listen." Sam continued in a bitter, self-loathing tone. "Ruby was _pissed_ that I needed a minute to think. I think she was scared that I wouldn't go through with it; that if I thought too hard on the matter, I would go running back to your side.

To be honest, I was going to do that. I was going to tell Ruby to go screw herself and I was going to come back to you, but then …" A crooked sad smile touched Sam's lips. "… I got your message," Sam indicated the phone in his hand. "And that basically made up my mind to go ahead and kill Lilith."

"What?" Dean gasped, stunned at his brother's confession. "You got my phone message and you _still_ decided to go after Lilith?" Dean asked incredulously.

Dean had poured his heart out in that phone message. He had backed down, decided to give Sam another chance and Sam just … he decided to go and kill Lilith anyway?

Tears of hurt and betrayal began to build within Dean's eyes. He had thought Sam had never gotten his message because Sam had never mentioned it and Dean knew that if Sam had heard it, he wouldn't have gone through with his suicidal mission of destroying Lilith.

But now … to know that Sam had not only heard his message, but had discarded his heart-felt apology and had gone ahead to that church to kill Lilith … that cut a lot more deeply than Dean thought it would.

_**Atten: **__Okay, so now Dean knows half of the secret. Don't worry, he'll get to hear the actual message in the next chapter, which I am currently working on._


	7. Chapter 7

**Special thanks: ** to **Pie Love Luci **and **Cricket Dancing **for your review and kind words, and to everyone who has viewed, favourited or added this story to your alerts. Your support and encouragement mean a lot.

**Warnings:** No violence, but lots of angst and self-incrimination.

**Note:** This is it, the last chapter in this story … Finally! Hope you all enjoy this chapter. If you have a moment, let me know what you think.

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

"I … I can't believe you still went to the church after you heard my message Sam. I thought I knew you better than that. I thought you would –"

"What Dean? You thought I would come running back to you after I heard that, begging for your forgiveness, grovelling at your feet?" Sam interrupted sharply, his eyes flashing with hurt, anger and disbelief. "You thought I would come crawling back to you with my tail tucked in between my legs like some whipped dog? Why the hell would I do that Dean? You basically said you were going to _kill_ me."

Sam's nostrils flared, getting ready to go into full blown, defensive angry mode before he shook his head slowly, his anger deflating as quickly as it had flared up. "I figured there was no turning back after I listened to that. Either way, I was a dead man."

"Come again?" Dean blinked, confused by his brother's words. "What do you mean?"

"I wasn't expecting to be alive after I killed Lilith." Sam admitted with a shrug of his shoulders. "So, it was either go to the church and die trying to kill Lilith or go back to you and wait for _you_ to kill me yourself. I figured if I was going to die, then I would at least take that bitch Lilith down with me."

Dean's eyes narrowed sharply. "What do mean I was going to kill you?" Dean demanded. "I _never_ said that!"

"Well, maybe not in so many words, but the meaning was clear Dean," Sam told his fuming older brother. "You said you were done trying to save me, so –"

"Wait. I never said that!" Dean denied loudly. "I would never say that."

"Oh, really?" Sam raised his eyebrows in challenge before he lifted his phone. "Then, why don't you tell me what you meant by this," Sam pushed some numbers on his phone to access the saved messages and before Dean could say or do anything else, _his_ voice came over the line, sounding cold, distant, threatening.

"_Listen to me you blood sucking freak, Dad always said I'd either have to save you or kill you. Well, I'm giving you fair warning, I'm done trying to save you. You're a monster Sam, a vampire. You're not __**you**__ anymore … and there's no going back."_

Dean's eyes widened in shock and disgust, feeling almost physically ill at the vile words coming out of Sam's phone, in a voice that was definitely his own voice but …

"What the hell it _that_?" Dean growled, appalled and horrified by what he had just heard, glancing from Sam to the phone with the offending message and back again.

"What do you mean what the hell is that? _This_ is the message you sent me." Sam said, clearly confused by Dean's obvious outrage.

"No, it's not." Dean argued hotly, glaring at Sam's phone viciously.

"Yes, it is." Sam declared, bewildered by the intense anger that was coming off of his brother in waves.

"Sam, _I_ never sent you _that_ message." Dean stated stubbornly.

And, as hard as Sam tried, he couldn't detect any lies within Dean's expression or his eyes. As far as Dean was concerned, he was telling the truth.

"But …" Sam swallowed hard, looking from Dean to the phone and back to Dean again. "This is what I _heard_." He whispered, his face suddenly draining of colour. "And, you can't deny it Dean, that is _your_ voice." He added, struggling to make sense of all of this.

Had Sam been wrong all of these years? Had his brother really _not_ given up on him? Sam had always thought it was strange how Dean had shown up at the church to stop him from killing Lilith. Because if Dean had meant what he'd said in that message … then, why the hell had he even bothered to come back for Sam at all?

And the days after … after Sam had released Lucifer … the days, which had turned into weeks and then months, Sam had kept expecting Dean to fulfil his promise. He'd kept expecting Dean to kill him. He'd almost wished Dean would just get it over and done with and put him out of his damn misery. But Dean never had. He'd never shown any inkling of attempting to take Sam's life.

Sure, Dean had been pissed at him – more pissed than Sam could ever remember Dean being – disappointed and hurt, taking it all out on Sam in the form of anger, disgust and becoming distant, cold and apathetic to Sam's actions, but he'd never blatantly tried to take Sam's life. Not ever. So, if Dean really hadn't sent Sam that message, then who had?

Sam's eyes widened in shock at that thought, a heavy weight being lifted from his heart because that meant Dean really hadn't given up on him. He didn't hate him or consider Sam a monster, something to be hunted. He'd still cared enough for Sam to come back for him, to try and stop him, to save him.

"I would never …" Dean spluttered indignantly. "Sammy, I would never _say_ such horrible things. You're my brother. And yeah, sure, sometimes you piss me off, but Sammy, I promise you, _that_ is _not_ the message I sent you that night."

"It's not?" Sam asked doubtfully, his heart pounding against his chest in hope.

"No Sammy, it's not." Dean insisted, his green eyes wide and full of sincerity. "The message I sent you … I said that I was still pissed at you, but that you were still my brother and _nothing_ would ever change that." Dean paused, imploring for his little brother to _believe_ him as he grabbed hold of Sam's arm pleadingly.

"Sam, I would never –" Dean's words choked off, recalling those atrocious things that he had heard just moments ago and had shaken him to the very core of his being. "Sammy, I _swear_ to you … on the _Impala_, that wasn't _me_ and that wasn't the message I sent you."

_Please Sammy, __**believe**__ me_, Dean silently begged his younger brother, a pang of hurt piercing his heart at the thought that this was what his little brother thought of him. How could Sam ever _think_ that Dean would say such horrendous things? Did his brother really think that Dean could be capable of deliberately hurting Sam like that?

"Okay Dean,"

Dean snapped back to the present at Sam's words. "Okay?" he asked, unsure of what his brother meant by those words.

"Okay." Sam nodded, a small smile touching his lips. "I believe you."

Dean let out a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding, a sense of relief washing over him.

"It must have been a trick or something." Sam shrugged; his expression creased in bafflement. "Whoever _did_ send this … they did a really good job of impersonating you, because that sounds _exactly_ like you."

Dean frowned. Yeah, it did sound like him; _exactly_ like him. Who the hell would have wanted to _trick_ Sam like that? Who would have wanted Sam to succeed in killing Lilith, of breaking the Final Seal so that Lucifer could be free from the cage? Dean's eyes widened as the answer suddenly became obvious to him.

"Oh, that God damned son of bitch!"

Dean didn't know whether to laugh or cry, because this particular son of a bitch had threatened to do _whatever_ it took to make sure that Sam killed Lilith and broke the Final Seal … even going so far as to keep Dean from Sam so that Dean wouldn't influence his younger brother's mind.

"What Dean?" Sam gasped, sensing his brother's rising agitation.

"Zachariah." Dean hissed between clenched teeth, wondering why in the hell he hadn't put it all together before now.

"_What_? What do you mean Zachariah?"

"He's the one who _did_ that." Dean declared to his bewildered sibling. "He's the one who changed the message Sam."

"Are you sure?" Sam frowned doubtfully.

"Yeah, I'm absolutely positive." Dean barked out a bitter laugh, hands clenched together at his sides, frustrated, angry and … _livid_ that these asshat angels had managed to dictate and interfere in their lives to such a degree as this.

Sam had kept that message. Had saved that message for over half a decade, listening to its poisonous words and lies over and over again … and _why_? Why the hell would Sam _do_ that? Why he would save such an obnoxious, repulsive message as that, Dean would never understand.

But Zachariah had gotten the desired result he'd been after when he'd toyed with Dean's message, because that had been the extra _nudge_ Sam had needed in order to break the Final Seal.

"But … how? _Why_?"

"Because that son of a bitch _wanted_ the apocalypse to happen Sam." Dean stated as he began to furiously pace back and forth in front of his brother. "He said that you would play your part … even if he needed to give you an extra _nudge_ in order to do it.

Hell, that bastard even locked me up in some weirdo green room, told me that _I_ was the one who would ice Lilith, that I was important and …" Dean stopped his pacing to glance at Sam over his shoulder, his expression morphing into hurt anguish. "That douchebag angel _played_ me Sammy.

He didn't reveal his full plan until it was too late for me to stop you. But the minute Zachariah insinuated that you might be in trouble or hurt … I wanted out. I wanted nothing more than to get to you. But they stuffed up my phone so I couldn't call you and …"

Dean clenched his hands tighter in frustrated anger. "I am going to find a way to bring that bastard back from the dead and I am going to have great pleasure in deep frying his feathers in some holy oil for interfering in our lives like this!" Dean raged, his green eyes flaring in protective fury, beginning to pace once more.

"Calm down Dean," Sam tried to soothe his irritate older brother. "He's gone; he's dead; there's nothing we can do about it now."

Dean whirled upon Sam and Sam almost cringed back at the dark grin that had enveloped Dean's features. "Nothing I can do about it, huh? Oh, I think there's plenty _I_ can do about it Sam."

"Dean," Sam placed a hand upon Dean's arm, his authoritative tone of voice bringing Dean to a stop to peer at Sam questioningly. "It's _over_ Dean. You said we should let the past stay in the past, right? So, let this go Dean, _please_."

"He _threatened_ you Sam. He _played_ us. And quite frankly, I think deep frying his feathers would make that dick look a hell of lot better."

Sam's surprised laugh did more to relieve Dean's anger than any words or actions would. "Yeah, maybe you're right Dean. But honestly … that guy's not worth the hassle. He might have beaten us that time, but in the end, you and I kicked his butt and _we_ stopped the apocalypse he so desperately wanted. We got our revenge Dean."

Dean mulled over Sam's words before a bright grin lit his face. "Yeah, we did, didn't we? But that still doesn't stop me from wanting to pound on that pompous asshat!"

"Well, at least now I know the truth behind this message." Sam indicated the phone he still held in his hand, a more relaxed and contented look upon his face, a look Dean hadn't seen in a long time. "And now I truly feel as if I can put the apocalypse behind me and move on." Sam smiled gratefully. "Thanks Dean, I –" Sam's expression dropped in an instant once he saw the hesitant look upon Dean's face. "You – you've changed your mind, haven't you Dean? This … the message and what I did because of it … it changes things, doesn't it?"

"Of course not!" Dean scoffed, easily plucking the phone from his brother's fingers. "It changes nothing, just like I told you it wouldn't." he reassured his emotionally distraught sibling. "What I want to know is … why the hell did you keep this message for so long? And why did you never tell me about it?"

Sam blinked at the hurt he could see shinning within the depths of his brother's eyes. "I kept it as a reminder." Sam reluctantly admitted, knowing that Dean wouldn't let this rest until Sam told him what he wanted to know.

"A reminder of what?" Dean gently prodded his younger brother when Sam's eyes glazed over and a faraway look entered those hazel eyes. "Sam?"

Sam blinked and his eyes cleared, but the hurt and anguish remained. "It was a reminder of how far I had fallen," Sam said softly, regretfully; his gaze shifting to his phone that Dean now held in his hands.

"Sam?"

Sam's eyes snapped up to Dean's eyes, seeing questions and confusion within his beloved older brother's green eyes.

"I'm going to need more of an explanation than that, kiddo," Dean looked at Sam expectantly, his gaze softening in sympathy when he noticed Sam begin to shift from one foot to the other uncomfortably, embarrassment colouring his checks.

Sam cleared his throat nervously, not knowing how to explain this to his brother when he didn't even fully understand it himself. "I – That was the first time I had deliberately betrayed you, defied you and trusted my own instincts over yours. This was the first time I had … I failed Dean."

Sam lowered his eyes, no longer able to look upon Dean's understanding, worried expression because Sam didn't deserve it. What he had done to his brother … it was a betrayal of the worst kind. Sam had kept the message as a reminder of how badly he had _failed_ his brother. He had kept on listening to that message – even though it still hurt him deeply to hear the older brother he'd loved finally giving up on him, giving up on them – because he _deserved_ it.

He deserved to suffer with that guilt, the remorse of what his actions had cost him because of his obsession to find Lilith and kill her, no matter what. His vengeance to find the demon who had sent his brother to Hell, who'd held the contract on Dean's soul and had been unwilling to budge, no matter what the brothers had done to prevent it, had consumed Sam's heart and soul with a darkness and determination that had scared Sam; because he'd been willing to do _whatever_ it took to take Lilith down … even lowering himself to the point where he'd drunken _demon blood_ in order to achieve that goal.

Even when Dean had mysteriously and miraculously returned from Hell; that hadn't dampened Sam's desire to seek justice and revenge upon the demon who had done this to Dean in the first place.

Sam should have been relieved that Dean was back – and he was so glad to have his brother back that mere words could not express his gratitude and relief – in his life. No one had made a deal, no one's head was on the chopping block; the brothers could be free to do what they did best … saving people and hunting things; the family business. But Sam couldn't be satisfied with that. He'd wanted Lilith's head and he was going to get it with or without his brother's help.

"Sammy?"

Sam jumped at the touch to his shoulder, eyes snapping up to Dean's. "I _failed_ Dean. I failed you and I failed myself. I became so lost in my desire to kill Lilith, to get revenge for what she'd done to you, that I didn't realize how dark and lonely that path was until it was too late." Sam wailed, pleading for his brother to understand.

Dean squeezed Sam's shoulder in gentle reassurance, displaying all of the love and support for his brother in this one touch.

"It should have been enough that you were alive and back from Hell, in my life just like I'd been praying for, for all of those months, but …" Sam bit upon his lower lip, tears welling up within his eyes once more. "I let revenge consume me. I let Ruby's lies poison me against you. And I _fell_ harder than I had ever fallen before."

Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I kept the message as a reminder of how far I'd fallen, of how dark I could become, of how dangerous I could be if I let my obsessiveness consume me once more. I kept it as a reminder of what _not_ to do in the future."

Dean took a moment to digest everything his younger brother had told him, resisting his first impulse to shake his brother and scream at him in sheer frustration, because that was such a stupid reason to keep a message which had obviously caused his younger brother such emotional pain.

What the fuck?

Seriously?

Sam kept the message as a _reminder_? So he wouldn't repeat his past mistakes? And knowing Sam like he did, Dean _knew_ that Sam had listened to this message probably hundreds of times over the past six years, torturing himself, drowning in his grief, his guilt, his remorse.

It was such a _dumb_ thing to do. But yet, it was definitely a _Sam_ thing to do. Only his kid brother, who blamed himself for literally _everything_ bad that had happened in their lives, who felt responsible for all of the innocents they couldn't save, would keep all of that pain and guilt alive by replaying that message over and over again.

But what this stupid kid failed to see, was that by keeping this message and continually listening to it, he kept the guilt alive, letting it fester and grow which had contributed to Sam's low self-worth and his lack of confidence. How the hell could Sam move on if he kept this message as a constant reminder of one of the worst moments in the brothers lives?

Dean closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths before he opened his eyes and looked upon his younger brother's pitifully, dejected form. "Aw Sammy," Dean sighed under his breath before giving Sam a gentle squeeze on his shoulder, his heart nearly breaking in two at his kid's obvious hurt and pain.

Dean was tempted to throw Sam's phone against the wall or crush it under his foot to destroy that destructive, offensive, disgusting message once and for all; but Dean instinctively knew that it wasn't up to him to get rid of the message. Sam had to do it himself if he was ever going to completely forgive himself and his actions during that time in their lives.

Dean shook his head, smirking in fond exasperation at his emotional, _girlie_ little brother, who wore his heart on his sleeve, reminded Dean that the little brother he had raised had never truly been lost to Dean; he'd just had to keep his emotions locked down. He couldn't show any weakness in front of the enemy, including his emotions. And because Dean hadn't been around to protect his kid brother like he should have been, Sam had been forced to change, to become someone else, to become … Oh, Sonuvabitch!

His freaking stupid, idiot little brother had tried to become _exactly_ like him. But Sam wasn't _him_. Sam could never become like him because pushing down his emotions like Dean did … it would _kill_ Sam in the end because that wasn't how the kid operated.

Dean could now understand how easy it had been for Ruby to have convinced Sam to go after Lilith, to use the powers that had terrified Dean himself – and Sam too – to lead Sam on this foolish crusade of revenge. The kid was hurting, and alone for the time in his life. He had watched Dean being torn to shreds by invisible hell hounds. He would have been consumed by grief, guilt, remorse and an overwhelming need to _get_ his big brother back, no matter what he had to do to achieve that.

Ruby had used his kid's vulnerability to slip in undetected under Sam's radar and it wouldn't have been long before Ruby's traitorous words would have started making sense to his emotionally distraught sibling.

Dean could see it all now. He could see how it had all unfolded; how it had all played out; how his younger brother had succumbed to Ruby's words and charms, trusting her because he had no one else left to trust.

The angels had given just enough time for Ruby to influence Sam before they rescued Dean from Hell. If they had truly wanted to "save" Dean, they should have pulled him out of Hell _before_ he broke. Or, better yet, they could have stopped him from going to Hell in the first place.

But they hadn't, because they'd needed Dean to break in Hell, in order for him to break the First Seal, so that all of the other Seals could be broken.

The angels could have pried Dean from Hell's grip after the first time he had accepted Alastair's offer to get off the rack and start torturing souls himself but … if the angels had retrieved Dean then, he wouldn't have been as broken as he was, not susceptible to the threats and words that would eventually cause Dean to _doubt_ his younger brother for the first time in their lives. And Sam might not have formed a close enough bond with Ruby yet, where it would override years of instincts of listening to and trusting his older brother.

Those God damned angels were worse than the demons. At least you knew where you stood with demons.

Zachariah and the higher-up angels had really done a number on both Dean and Sam. Because if they had really been worried about what Sam was doing with Ruby, if they had really wanted to stop it … then, it could have been so easy for them to have stopped it themselves _before_ they had rescued Dean from Hell.

This whole time Dean had been blaming Sam for the whole apocalypse fiasco, because if he had only trusted and _listened_ to Dean, then none of it would have happened. But now … now Dean could see clearly for the first time in his life. And he could _see_ how both of them were played by the very beings they had trusted.

Castiel was just a pawn, just like Sam and Dean, but when it looked like Castiel was going to be a problem, the God-squad had taken Cas to Heaven prison and tortured him until Cas relented and had no choice but to play ball again and follow orders like a good little solider.

Even though Dean had been highly suspicious and dubious of angels at first, he had eventually trusted Cas and listened to him, not knowing that Castiel was being coerced and fed false information himself.

And Sam … he had trusted Ruby because she had been there with him, saved him time and time again; she had _proven_ herself to Sam and every time Sam had tried to get away, whenever he tried to walk the right path, something would happen which would lead Sam directly into Ruby's path once again.

The way to infiltrate Sam was to gain his trust, appeal to his emotions and his thirst to get revenge upon the demon who had hurt his big brother. And in order to get to Dean, they had to break him down first, and then plant seeds of doubt about his little brother within his mind, nurturing it until Dean became so distrustful of his little brother that he became numb and apathetic.

Dean clenched his fists, feeling his agitation rise because he had been _played_ like a fool. Dean Winchester was a lot of things, but a fool was not one of them. He had been _used_, been betrayed by the angels themselves, all because they were throwing a childish temper tantrum, hoping their absentee father would hear them and be forced to come back to Heaven.

The angels had meddled and interfered with the brothers lives, pushing them around like pawns on a chessboard, all because _they_ had decided they'd had enough and wanted their own suffering to end.

Dean could feel his temper spike to an almost out of control degree – because _nobody_ had the right to fuck with their lives like that – before Sam's words from earlier came to mind and his anger withdrew from him as quickly as it had come.

Sam was right. They had beaten them in the end. There had been no apocalypse. The Winchester siblings had bonded together, defied all the odds against them and had beaten both angels and demons alike, not to mention beating the archangel Michael and Lucifer himself. They had survived and won because they had stuck together, trusted each other and had not given up on each other or themselves.

"We beat them Sam. Even when they tried to turn us against each other, we sucked it up and beat every one of those sons of bitches." Dean stated proudly, squeezing the back of his brother's neck in a comforting, soothing gesture of affection and love. "The two of us took on angels, demons, archangels and the damn Devil himself, and we won. Despite all of their meddling and carefully laid out plans, you and me Sammy, we beat them together."

Sam looked up at Dean, taking in Dean's soft smile, his green eyes sparkling with pride and happiness as Sam raised his eyebrows quizzically, wondering exactly where Dean was going with this.

Dean's smile grew wider at Sam's look of confusion. "So this," Dean waved Sam's phone in front of Sam's face. "This message and all of the guilt you keep on making yourself relive over and over again because you keep listening to this message … it needs to stop Sam."

Sam's brows furrowed, even more confused than before. "I thought it had stopped Dean. You said you could forgive me, so –"

"I _can_ forgive you Sam. I _have_ forgiven you. Hell, I can even forgive myself for all of that crap." Dean paused and eyed his brother carefully, his expression both sympathetic and serious at the same time. "But in order for you to forgive yourself Sam, you have to let it go. You have to delete this message and let it all go little brother, otherwise you'll be stuck in the past forever."

"Delete the message …" Sam's eyes widened and he adamantly shook his head.

No. He couldn't do that. How would he know if he was doing the right thing in the future or not if he didn't have this message as a guideline?

It wasn't … Dean couldn't ask him to do this. Not this. This was his reminder, his punishment, his atonement for betraying and deceiving his big brother all of those years ago. He had to keep it, to keep listening to it because it was what he _deserved_.

"No, Sam." Dean grasped his younger brother's head in between his hands, holding Sam's eyes with his own gaze. "You do not deserve this. You do not need a reminder or to be punished. And you sure as hell do not need to atone for anything."

Sam blinked at his older brother in utter confusion and disbelief. Had Dean somehow read his mind or –

"You still "think" our loud when extremely upset little brother," Dean smirked in answer to Sam's unspoken question before he turned serious once more as Sam lowered his eyes in embarrassment and shame flowing through him now.

"Uh-no little brother, eyes on me." Dean commanded and was relieved when Sam's eyes reluctantly met his a few seconds later. "This message that you've been listening to for all of these years, torturing yourself over, it isn't _me_ Sam. _I_ never sent you that message. Those are not _my_ words. And that will _never_ be how I feel or think about you, ever." Dean stressed slowly, his eyes never leaving Sam's, needing for his brother to see the truth within the depths of his own eyes. "You get that right? You understand that _I never sent you that message_, right?"

Sam swallowed hard, relaxing slightly when he saw nothing but honesty within Dean's eyes. "Yeah Dean, I understand. I get that it wasn't you who sent me this message."

Dean nodded, relieved by his little brother's response. "Good. Then, tell me why you would want to keep something that wasn't sent by me?"

Sam hesitated, thinking over what Dean said, and he knew that logically his big brother was correct. Now that it was revealed that Dean had never sent this particular message Sam should have no problem in deleting it and erasing the message from existence forever, but …

Sam couldn't explain it. He felt an overwhelming panic at even the mere thought of never listening to that message ever again. It had been such a huge part of his life, of his decision making that –

"Sammy,"

Sam flicked his eyes to Dean's once more, seeing nothing but steady calm upon his older brother's features.

"It's not _me_ little brother, okay? Let's take this final step and put that part of our lives behind us forever." Dean held out the phone. "Delete the message Sammy, _please_."

Sam took the phone from Dean, bitting upon his bottom lip indecisively. Just one push of the button and it would be gone forever. But did Sam deserve to have his past sins erased like that? It didn't seem right somehow.

"Hey, Sammy, look at me," Dean touched Sam's check to get his attention, seeing the doubt within his little brother's eyes. Sam didn't think he deserved to be forgiven or to forgive himself; Dean could see that, but he could also see the swell of hope entering those hazel eyes at the possibility that maybe he _could_ be forgiven.

"You went to _Hell_ dude." Dean reminded his stubborn kid brother. "You took down the archangel Michael and the Devil by sacrificing yourself when you jumped into the cage. _You_ saved the world Sam." Dean pulled Sam's forehead against his own forehead, his voice breaking slightly with emotion because Dean hated to think about how utterly lonely and empty he'd felt when Sam had jumped into the cage, realizing that he now had to find the strength and the will to carry on without his pain-in-the-ass little brother by his side.

"You're a hero man," Dean continued, closing his eyes briefly, swallowing down the lump of emotion that was caught in his throat. "It was because of your courage that we were able to stop the planned apocalypse." Dean insisted, his tone filled with nothing but love and pride as he pulled back to look into his brother's eyes.

"Going to Hell and sacrificing yourself for the good of the world … you've done your time Sam. And I think any sins you committed _before_ you jumped into the cage are now null and void.

If going to Hell doesn't release you from all of the things you did – even though we were both set up and _used_ by both angels and demons – then I don't know what would." Dean released a sigh, noticing that his attempt at a joke had gone way over his little brother's head. "C'mon kiddo, it's time to let the past stay in the past. Delete the message Sammy and let's get back to what we do best."

Sam looked down at the phone in his hand, swallowing hard as he thought about everything that had happened when Dean had returned from Hell. He thought about every action he had made, every decision and the eventual consequences his actions had caused.

Yes, Sam finally accepted that Ruby had duped him completely. And he knew that he would always have regrets about the choices he'd made, the path he'd chosen, but … if Dean could forgive him for all that he had done, for the betrayal, the hurt and the anguish he had caused his big brother, then surely Sam could at least _try_ and let go of that guilt; he could _try_ to forgive himself; if not for himself, then for his brother's sake.

Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly before he met his brother's steady, worried green eyes again, a small smile gracing his lips as he pushed the button that would delete the message he'd saved for the past six years, feeling a burden that he had long since gotten used to, being lifted from his shoulders, the automated voice on his phone telling him that the saved message had now been deleted.

"Saving people and hunting things, right Dean? The family business."

"Damned straight Sammy," Dean grinned, slinging a relieved arm around his younger brother's shoulder. "As long as we stick by each other and have one another's backs, we can defeat _anything_ that comes our way … even this so-called Darkness. It's you and me against the world kiddo." Dean stated with new found confidence, grinning wildly from ear to ear when he heard Sam's soft chuckle beside him.

**DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW**

"So, are we good now Dean?" Sam asked a few hours later, watching as Dean applied a fresh bandage to Sam's arm, the first aid kit situated upon Sam's beside table as the two brothers sat upon Sam's bed, sitting opposite each other.

Dean glanced up at his brother before offering Sam a small genuine smile. "Yeah Sammy, we're good. But if you ever _scare_ me like that again dude, I'll –"

"What? You'll kill me?" Sam couldn't help but tease, seeing a dark look cross his brother's feature.

"Don't even _joke_ about that dude," Dean growled. "That whole thing … with the other world … it was far too close for comfort."

Sam sobered quickly. "Yeah." He shuddered violently, recalling how close he had come to actually putting the gun to his head and pulling the trigger.

"But lucky for you, your awesome big brother saved the day." Dean added in what he hoped was a cheerful, dismissive tone, wanting to take the haunted look from his brother's eyes.

"As if there was any doubt," Sam agreed, smiling up at his older brother in admiration.

Dean coughed loudly to cover up the blush of embarrassment that settled upon his checks at Sam's look of admiration and praise. It had been a long time since his baby brother had looked at him as if Dean could solve anything and everything.

"You know," Dean said in a conversational tone. "And I really _hate_ to admit this, but that douchebag trickster-angel had a point."

Sam's eyebrows raised in question, nudging Dean gently to elaborate on that seemingly random comment.

"We _are_ out of sync."

Sam frowned, considering his brother's words, about to argue before Dean held up a hand to stop Sam's arguments before he could even form them.

"I didn't lock myself in my room the other night to avoid you. Nor did I not want to spend the evening with you because I was ashamed of you." Dean couldn't help but admit because Sam's comments from earlier was really starting to nag him. And he was going to set Sam straight on some of his misconceptions right now.

Sam shot him such a skeptical, incredulous look that Dean couldn't help the small smirk that flittered across his lips before it was gone again. "I locked myself in my room because I was ashamed of myself."

"What?" Sam blinked at him in surprise. "Why?"

"Why?" Dean repeated incredulously. "C'mon dude, don't act like you don't know what I did. I almost killed you … again." Dean snorted both ruefully and angrily. "I didn't have the emotional courage to act like nothing had happened and that everything was fine. And the absolute last thing I wanted to do was to fall apart in front of you.

And I know that you'll say that it wasn't me and I had no control over my actions." Dean added before Sam could cut in and defend Dean's actions. "But I remember it Sam. I remember everything. And the decision to kill you before letting Death take me away so I couldn't hurt anyone else … it was such a logical, calculated decision and it seemed like the only thing that could be done; the only choice I had left that …"

Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly, not wanting to go too deep into this considering the emotions they had already shared this night, and Dean was _done_ with all of these girly emotions and chick-flick moments. But just this one last slight emotional admittance in order to set Sam straight and then Dean could go back to using sarcasm and humour as his emotional barriers and shields.

"I was still so _raw_ with emotions and … my point is, there was a time when you would have known that all I needed was time to deal with everything concerning the Mark. Just like there was a time when I would have known what was going on in that freaky head of yours and I would have stopped you _before_ it had even gotten to the point of you casting that damn spell-curse."

Sam opened his mouth to immediately object and reject anything that bastard trickster had said, before he reconsidered his brother's words and couldn't help but reluctantly agree with his older brother's assessment.

"You're right," Sam acknowledged with a nod. "But even though we may not have been completely in sync with each other, we still managed to work together and get out of there in one piece. I'd say that's still a win Dean."

"Yeah Sammy, it's definitely a win." Dean agreed, grinning broadly. "But no more drinking for you young man. And if I even catch a whiff of you reading anything that relates to spells at all, I'll be taking away your internet privileges. Understood?"

Sam laughed, understanding that his brother's teasing was one of the ways Dean let Sam know how worried and scared he had been. "Oh, don't worry Dean, I don't plan to go near a spell book for a _very_ long time." Sam assured his anxious sibling, seeing the fear finally being to fade within his brother's deep green eyes, replaced by a relaxed look that Sam hadn't seen in his brother's eyes in what felt like forever.

The two of them still had a lot of issues to work through, they still had to rebuild their trust of each other and themselves, and it was going to be a long, hard road ahead of them, but Sam knew – with a confidence he hadn't had before – that the two of them would work it out eventually.

If there was one thing Sam had learned from this recent experience, he now _knew_, with absolute conviction that Dean would always be there for him, no matter what.

"Come on Sasquatch, it's time for you to get some sleep." Dean gently pushed Sam down into a lying down position, smirking when Sam shot Dean his infamous bitch-face, his eyes automatically going to Sam's phone which was still clutched in his brother's hands.

Without knowing what prompted him to do what he did, Dean plucked the phone from his brother's hand once more and dropped it onto the ground before he stomped upon it, hearing the satisfying crack beneath the heel of his boot.

"Deeaan," Sam sighed, slightly irritated now because there was no reason for his brother to literally _break_ his phone considering that Dean had checked the phone repeatedly to make sure the saved message had in fact been deleted.

"Uh, I know the message is gone and all," Dean rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly self-conscious now. "But just to be on the safe side. At least now I know for sure that it's gone. And don't worry, I'll buy you a new phone in the morning, okay?" Dean added as a way of an apology.

But instead of getting mad like Dean had expected him to, Sam just nodded his head, the teasing twinkle in his eyes informing Dean that Sam's new phone may cost Dean more than he expected. But that was more than okay with Dean. As long as Sam was no longer listening to that poisonous, deceitful message, then Dean would pay for whatever new phone Sam wanted, no matter what it cost.

"Hey, Dean?"

Dean paused by Sam's bedroom door and glanced back at this brother questioningly.

"I just wanted to say thanks for – _thanks for coming to rescue me, thanks for having my back, thanks for protecting me my entire life, thanks for everything_ – well, you know," Sam muttered, suddenly feeling uncomfortable and extremely vulnerable right now.

Dean smiled, hearing the unspoken words in his brother's uncomfortableness. "Anytime … bitch,"

"Jerk." Sam immediately responded, instantly feeling more relaxed and content with the old exchange of teasing jibes they said to each other when they'd been kids; because it meant that the two brothers were back on the same page. They were in sync with each other once more.

Sam couldn't help but smile at the protective look that now invaded his older brother's features and he realized that he had really scared his brother this time – even though that had never been Sam's intention at all – but if Dean could find the strength to stand beside him through everything Sam had done, then Sam knew he could handle anything and everything that came there way.

As long as Dean was by his side, supporting him, believing in him; Sam _knew_ he would never fail at disappointing his big brother ever again because Dean would stop Sam before he did something stupid.

And this time, Sam vowed to himself, this time he would _listen_ to his brother and not keep on repeating the same mistakes of his past.

**THE END**

_**Atten: **__And that is the conclusion of this story. I hope I did it justice and that everyone who has followed, favourited and commented found this ending satisfactory._

_As I've stated before, endings have never been my strong suit._

_Thanks to everyone for their support and encouragement, it really means a lot._


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